Salvation
by Fortnight'sCreep
Summary: Recently escaped from a pack with an abusive history, Charlie's made her way to Beacon County, California to seek out the alpha of misfits. Though she's found a pack to take her in, her troubles have only just begun. With two alphas, pack rivalries, and a family of blood hungry hunters on her hands, Charlie finds that salvation may not be all she'd hoped for. T for language
1. Meet the Pack

**_Disclaimer: _I do not own Teen Wolf, any part of its plot, or any of the affiliated characters. I only own my character (Charlie) and any parts of this story line not aired in the actual T.V. show. **

* * *

I made my way tentatively down the pathway, inhaling the cool midnight air.

The more steps I took, the more distinct the smell became to me.  
A few hundred feet were the only things standing in the way of me and what I hoped would be my salvation.  
I wrapped my arms tighter around my torso, trying not to feel the bitter chill as it swept through my bones.  
My knees shook with apprehension, the lamplight fluttering along with my heart, intensifying the feeling of foreboding the night had taken on.  
The path was dark and very poorly lit with few stray streetlights and the glow from the waning moon, but at the end I could see the outcrop of a clearing.

Trees loomed tall over unkempt bushes, and behind it was a lake, edges laced with jagged rocks.  
I knew I'd find them here, the night before the full moon. It's when we were at our strongest, prime training time.  
And the alpha would most definitely be with his pack, guiding them, teaching them.  
I though of what I'd say, how I'd handle rejection.  
But I couldn't take being an omega any longer. It was too lonely, too uncertain.  
I knew I'd do anything to join this pack, the pack notorious for teenage misfits and victims, kids like me.  
I made my way carefully through the foliage, peeling back branches to look for any sight of them.  
All was quiet initially, but after a few minutes, I saw someone whip by, flipping over the water like some aerobatic creature.  
It was awe inspiring.  
I watched him pivot and unfurl himself from the ground, back into his human form.  
He was tall, with pale olive toned skin and dark hair with eyes more piercing than an arrowhead.  
"The alpha," I whispered, watching as he beckoned someone from afar.  
"Now," he spoke with a commanding voice. Stern, yet comforting. Nothing like my previous alpha. "You two try."  
And not a second after, two more figures raced down the path from which he had just came, growling playfully at each other as they reached the edge of the water.  
For a split second, I watched their bodies unwind, twisting over the lake like torpedoes through water.  
Though they didn't land as gracefully as their pack master, they both completed the spin tactfully and with almost no noise.  
It was the kind of thing that I'd looked for, the kind of freedom I'd prayed I'd find with a new pack.  
"How was that?" asked the taller one, a boy with curly brown hair and crystal blue eyes. He was eager to please, but in a timid way that almost made my stomach turn.  
Then the girl, a blonde with full lips and eyes like a pool of sienna, spoke up.  
"Better have been satisfactory," she said. "We've been out here all night and my nails are nearly down to cuticles."  
I nearly scoffed until I realized she was completely unserious, almost mocking.  
The alpha spoke, "It was good enough," he said. "For now."  
"Good enough to stand a chance against the Argents?" asked the boy.  
Argents? My heart sank a little bit in my chest. Enemies, I though. Of course.  
I hadn't exactly considered that my new potential pack would be unfriendly with any group of people.  
But, like I had been taught as a child, any power comes with a price. And that price is an enemy, often times just as powerful.  
"It's getting there," said the alpha. "Once Boyd is completely healed and joins us, we'll all be stronger. That should work in our benefit."  
Just as they began discussing more about their training exercises, a breeze caught.  
"Oh, no," I muttered to myself as it trailed up from behind me, pushing my scent out into the open.  
Quickly, their conversation ceased.  
I watched their eyes turn golden, glowing.  
Their bodies stiffened.  
"What is that?" asked the boy, clenching his fist at his side.  
"That, my protégés," said the alpha, "is another wolf."  
"Do you mean Scott?" asked the girl.  
"No, not Scott. The scent is too faint to come from such a dominant Omega," he replied.  
The alpha stepped onto a boulder near the lake, scanning the trees slowly.  
As his eyes crossed over me, I panicked, letting the branches swing back into place, covering my body.  
"Who's there?" the alpha growled, stepping in my direction. "Come out now, or we'll find you. And we'll rip you to pieces."  
With that, I stood almost immediately. Unsteadily, I made my way through the branches which were concealing me, stepping out into the faint light of the moon.  
My fingers trembled, achy and numb as I struggled to keep a grip on my arms.  
I watched their eyes light up again, their body language tense, as if ready to pounce.  
"That's not a wolf, Derek," said the boy.  
"Damn right it's not," the girl laughed. "It's a little girl." Then she stepped closer to me, her flawless face pouting with faux concern.  
"How old are you, sweet heart?" she asked. "Twelve?"  
I tried to shake my head, but I couldn't move.  
I had the sudden urge to turn and run, but the alpha's threat to rip me apart seemed so absolute, I couldn't bring myself to escape.  
I could just see in my mind's eye, his body twisting through the trees, landing on top of me and dismembering me bit by tiny bit.  
I shuddered.  
"She looks scared to death," the boy said, stepping towards me. "You must be freezing. Here, take my jacket."  
He barely had time to grab the zipper before the alpha's hand was wrapped tightly around his.  
An expression of pain overcame his face and there was a sickening 'crack' before he released.  
"Keep your clothes on, Isaac. You know just as well as I do this could be a trap." said the alpha.  
Then he turned back to me, scanning me carefully.  
"Who are you? Why are you here?" he asked me.  
But I couldn't seem to find the words to answer him.  
"Derek, really. Do you honestly think the Argents would send a mute little girl out here to try and scare us?"  
Her facetious tone bit at my insides.  
"I'm not mute, and I'm not a child," I said to her, catching her gaze just briefly before turning my attention back to the alpha.  
He bent over a little, his face close to mine.  
His eyes were dark and close together. His jaw was strong, his expression unsettling.  
I couldn't read whether he was feeling inquisitive or angry.  
"Then what are you?" he asked, glowering at me.  
"Alone," I said. "Completely. And utterly alone."  
"How'd you find us?" asked the girl.  
"I'd heard about you," I said to the alpha. "They used to talk about you in my old pack. The alpha of misfits, they called you. They said you took in teenagers with sob stories and nowhere else to turn."  
I stopped for a minute, trying to catch my breath.  
"Of course, they were mocking you…" I said.  
His face twisted as if he were about to hit me.  
"But I didn't feel that way about it!" I told him. "I liked the idea. I wanted… I wanted to come find you, to be a part of your pack."  
"Still doesn't answer how you found us," he said, his face even closer to me.  
I backed up a bit, gulping. "I already had a general idea of where to find you. I've been walking around this town all day, hoping to catch a scent. I finally did, just about an hour ago. And I followed it to you. I only got here a few minutes ago."  
"So you've been spying on us?" he demanded.  
"No," I told him, straightening my stance. "Admiring is more like it."  
He smiled a bit, his ivory white teeth glowing under the moonlight.  
"Look, kid. I don't know where you thought this sweet talking would get you," the alpha said, "but I don't run a day care center, okay? So find your way back to your own pack. I've got enough on my hands right now without worrying about a stray."  
He turned his back on me and made his way back to the sides of his two betas.  
The boy looked at me with empathy, the girl with amusement.  
The look on her face made me feel unsettled- angry, even.  
And that's what made me start rolling my sleeves.  
"You don't understand," I said, watching my arms go from sleeve colored, to white in the wrists and then purple and black the rest of the way up.  
I held my arms out to him, let him get a good look before rolling my sleeves back down.  
"I can't go back to my old pack," I said.  
I lifted up the hem of my shirt cautiously to reveal the scars, wincing as my finger tips brushed my bruised ribs.  
"You let me join your pack," I said, "or I die. Those are my two options."  
Without missing a beat, he answered me callously, "Then I hope the last one is quick and painless."  
The girl smirked. I felt like she was ripping me apart with her eyes, like a hunter does it's prey just moments before a kill.  
"Derek," the boy, Isaac, protested, "we can't just leave her out here to freeze to death."  
"I think we have a big enough pack already," cut in the girl. I was really beginning to resent her.  
"You heard what he said earlier," Isaac said to her. "We're still not strong enough to fight the Argents, not even with all of our extra training. Another pair of claws will only help! Look," he said, turning to his alpha, "can you at least agree give her a chance? She might be an asset."  
His eyes searched his alpha's face, his eyes pleading silently.  
Derek looked to Isaac, the girl, then back to me and shook his head, groaning. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "Fine. But you've gotta pull your own weight, okay? I'm not going to do it for you."  
I nodded, "Of course."  
"Alright then," Derek said. "You can join us, but temporarily for now. Until I see how you work with a team."  
"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my relief from expressing itself via my tear ducts.  
"But before I take you back to where we live, I have to know what to call you." he told me.  
Then, I didn't care what he called me, but I answered him nonetheless.  
"Charlotte," I said. "My name is Charlotte. But I go by Charlie."  
"Okay then," said Derek. "I'm Derek. You can address me as Derek, though I'd rather not be addressed at all. That there," he said, pointing to the girl, "is Erica. And this," he turned to Isaac, "is Isaac."  
They both shot tentative grins at me.  
"Let's go then." Derek said, making his way back down the path I'd come from.  
He and Erica walked quickly, disappearing into the brush within moments.  
"Here, take this," said Isaac from behind, draping his jacket over my shoulders.  
"No, it's fine," I said, fumbling to shrug it off.  
"Really," he said, stepping in front of me to zip it, fingers brushing against mine. He smiled. "Your hands feel like ice," he told me. "We'll be back at Derek's soon. Keep the jacket."  
"Thank you," I said, snuggling my cheeks into the warm collar.  
"No problem," he said, taking me by the arm. "Now let's go catch up with them."

We took a bunch of back roads and dark alleys, the kind of places no one important would see us.  
I felt out of place, following behind the tall blonde and Derek, with her cat like strut and his enormous shoulder muscles.  
Isaac stayed beside me, his hand every so often brushing against mine.  
The first few times, I fought the urge to recoil. But after, it was comforting to know there was someone who wasn't completely opposed to my presence.  
"Thank you for what you did for me back there," I whispered to him as we made our way behind some abandoned warehouses. "You saved my life."  
He smiled. "I don't deserve that much credit," he said. "Derek has a hard shell, but I don't think he would've left you out there. Not so close to Argent territory."  
"I heard you all talking about them, the Argents. What are they, another pack?" I asked, blowing warm air onto my hands.  
"No," he said. "They're a family of hunters. They track down our kind, kill us."  
"Oh," I said quietly. "There was a group like that back home. But they were more like supernatural law enforcement. They killed wolves for doing bad things, not just because they could. They have rules against that sort of thing."  
Isaac nodded. "I came into the scene a little late, but I believe the Argents used to have a similar law code. But then one of theirs was killed, and it's been every entity for themself ever since."  
"Hasn't it always been like that?" I commented under my breath, thinking about the bruises covering my arms and torso, and how I obtained them.  
Memories stained red repeated themselves in my mind. I felt the air disappear suddenly from my chest as I saw my limp body slide down a concrete wall. My heart beat accelerated, my head spinning as I tried to block out the images of glowing red eyes, towering above me, threatening to break the very core of my being.  
"Hey, you alright?" Isaac asked, grabbing me by the shoulder.  
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'm fine. Just cold."  
"Well we're here now." He told me, stopping a few feet in front in front of an old, spray painted piece of sheet metal covering the opening to an old subway station.  
Above, I could faintly see city names and departure times labeled on dirty blue signs.  
Derek bent the metal vertically, hinging it like a door.  
Erica stepped in first, then Isaac and myself.  
Instantly, the scent of damp mold overcame me and I coughed, trying not to gag.  
"Home sweet home," Isaac muttered. "Come on."  
I walked down some dark steps, into a poorly lit underground subway entrance, caked with dirt and cobwebs.  
In the center, a section of the transit sat, crooked and derailed. Wires splayed from every corner with no uniformity.  
Lights above dangled uncertainly, flickering and making sporadic zapping sounds as the swung to and fro.  
I looked around uncertainly, wondering what the metal bars on the ground were for.  
I paced the width of the station slowly, running my fingers over the rucksacks and sliding my feet across the rubber mats.  
"It's for training," Derek said. "But we'll get into that later. For now, find somewhere to sleep for the night."  
I peaked into the bus, speckles with flashlights, the waterproof bar shaped kinds used during floods and while working under car hoods.  
At the back of the train, sprawled out over a tattered black seat, was a huge and extremely dark guy with one hand hanging onto a pole and the other wrapped over his torso.  
From afar, I could see his nose wriggle a little. He sat up, groaning, and looked in my direction.  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
I looked around, but the other three had disappeared. I wondered if they were planning something on me, but I was so cold and tired, I didn't care.  
I stepped up into the bus through the busted front window, glass crunching underneath my feet, and made my way down the aisle.  
When I got close enough for my comfort, I sat down and folded my hands between my thighs.  
"I'm Charlie," I said.  
"I've never seen you before," he mused. "Did Derek just turn you?"  
"No," I said, my eyes trailing down to the holes in his exposed torso. "What happened there?"  
He grimaced. "Bullet holes," he said. "Normally, they'd be healed by now, but the shells were laced with wolfs bane."  
I shuddered, trying not to let my mind conjure up the horrible encounters I'd had with that plant.  
"The Argents' work?" I asked.  
He nodded. "Derek told you about them?"  
"No," I said. "I mean, they were mentioned, but I don't know a whole lot more than they like killing our kind for revenge."  
"Then you know about as much as I do," he reassured me, lying back down on his filthy little seat-bed-hybrid thing.  
"So this is where you guys live?" I asked, trying to get accustomed to the smell of mildew and the thrum of the buzzing lights overhead.  
"Sort of," he said. "Isaac and Derek take residence her, but me and Erica… we're just here a lot, staying away from overbearing parents mostly."  
I lifted an eyebrow, "Sounds rebellious."  
He laughed. "Well, my parents think I'm working late nights, so I guess if they don't know I'm not doing what I'm told…"  
"It doesn't matter?"  
"Exactly," he affirmed. "I'm Boyd, by the way."  
"Nice to meet you," I told him.  
And as soon as the words were out of my mouth, a figure appeared over me, a grumbling sound coming from her throat.  
"You're in my seat." she growled.  
I took a good, long look down the row of empty benches and then looked back up at her.  
Without a word, I got up from the uncomfortable seat and made my way back out of the transit section, not letting go of her gaze until I was well out of the aisle.  
I stood, scanning the room for any dark, warm place to sleep but couldn't see anywhere that wasn't caked over with dirt or underneath a leaky drain pipe.  
I sighed.  
I didn't want to sleep in the same vicinity as snarling Barbie, but I wasn't really looking to inhale dust for eight hours of darkness, either.  
"Blanket?" I heard a voice from behind me and turned to see Isaac, hand outstretched.  
"Sure," I said, unzipping the jacket he'd given me. I yanked it off quickly, wincing as my muscles protested the quick, careless movements.  
"Here," I said through my teeth, grabbing the blanket from his hand and replacing it with his jacket. "Thank you for letting me borrow that, and for.. Everything."  
"No problem," he said.  
I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, shuddering as every inch of my body ached.  
"You okay?" he asked.  
I could faintly see concern flit across his face underneath the incandescent bulbs overhead.  
"Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine."  
"Is it the bruises?" he asked, not buying my indifference.  
I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. It's fine. Th- they don't even hurt."  
"Really?" he asked, grabbing my forearm.  
I sucked in air. Hard. To keep from screaming at him.  
"Yeah, it looks fine. How'd this happen?" He asked, releasing my arm.  
I resisted the urge to grab it and apply pressure, anything to stop the burning pain under my skin.  
"A fight." I told him.  
"With what? An eighteen wheeler?"  
I sighed, frustrated with all of his questions. I wished he'd just keep his damn mouth shut and leave me alone. But I knew the only way to get him out of my face would be to give him what he wanted.  
"You really want to know?" I asked, taking the blanket off my shoulders.  
Suddenly, I felt like an intruder. I don't know exactly what came over me, but it was a strange feeling. Like I needed to run, to go to something different. Somewhere that wasn't home, but somewhere not here.  
I felt like I didn't want anything from these people, like anything I'd already received was too much, things I'd never be able to pay back.  
But I also didn't want to have to go, so I didn't resist his interrogation.  
"My father is an alpha," I said. "He's powerful, but he's arrogant. And he likes to toss his weight around. Sometimes, he tries… creative ways of getting his point across." I took a deep breath, trying to fight back the wells of anger threatening to spill over my eye lids. "And that usually involves using me as an example."  
Isaac looked at me, stunned.  
"I- I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know…"  
"But now you do. Here," I said, shoving the blanket into his chest.  
I walked over to a dark corner, away from view of anyone in the train.  
Isaac stood for a moment, looking in my direction. Then he shook his head, hopping onto the bus with a tired expression on his face.  
I sat down slowly, propping myself up against the brick wall. I pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my head between them, and fell into a shallow and uncomfortable sleep, waking every time I sensed a nightmare approaching.  
The last thing I needed was for one of them to think I was weak, on top of broke and needy.


	2. Initiation

**_If I'm being completely honest, Isaac was my entire inspiration for this fic. You will be seeing a lot of him. _**

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, the ambience of the place was completely still and silent.  
I didn't hear the rustling of feet or the pound of heartbeats. There was nothing, only the 'plink' of water dripping onto metal and the buzzing of circuitry overhead.  
I forced myself to my feet, trying not to move too quickly.  
I wasn't as sore as eight hours ago, but the bruises still hurt immensely. I wondered if I had a few fractured bones, then laughed at myself for being so silly.  
Of course my bones were broken.  
I peeled back my sleeves to look at my arms, which were now a purplish brown color surrounded by a yellow that faded into the color of my skin.  
They should be healed by tomorrow, I thought to myself, not bothering to check the wounds under my shirt.  
As I rolled my sleeves back down, I heard footsteps descending the stairs, slowly.  
"Where is everyone?" I asked as I saw Derek turn the corner.  
He was wearing a black leather jacket over a black tee shirt, dark denim jeans, and black leather combat boots with silver aglets to offset the absence of color. I was beginning to sense that darkness was a theme with him, mood and all.  
"School," he replied.  
"Oh," I said. I'd forgotten all about school. Where I came from, school was just another thing I subjected myself to so my parents could keep up the superficial façade that our family was normal.  
I didn't like school. I was the freak show, the one with hand me down clothes that wore sweaters in the summertime to hide the black and blue welts that covered ever inch of skin that could be hidden with a piece of cloth.  
I was an outcast in school, much like in my own home, and I was glad I'd never have to go back to either one of them again.  
"So since you can't go with them, you'll be spending the day with me," Derek said. "Showing me your skills."  
"Skills?" I asked apprehensively.  
"Yeah," he said. "I need to know what you can do, where to place you during fights. And the only way I can do that is for you," he said, straightening a mat out adjacent to the train, "to show me what you're capable of."  
I sighed. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"  
"First, we'll start off with something simple. See that seat frame over there?" he said, nodding towards the skeleton of a steal bench. "Throw it."  
I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was serious. That thing easily weighed three hundred pounds, and the most I'd ever hurled was about one hundred and eighty. Granted, that was years before I'd even heard of Derek, but how much can one's strength improve without proper weight training?  
He stood there, arms crossed over his ridiculously large pectoral muscles, and glared at me.  
I nodded, not wanting to find out what would happen if I disobeyed him.  
I made my way over to it slowly, wiping my sweaty palms down my pants.  
I grabbed the top of the frame with one hand and the bottom of it with the other, and pulled with all my might.  
I could barely hold it two inches above the ground. "What happened to hollow aluminum?" I grunted, dropping it to the ground with a large clatter.  
"It's an old bus," Derek mused. "Is that all you can do?"  
I shook my head, grabbing the frame again, with my eyes closed.  
I lifted, directing all the weight to my knees and all of my power to my shoulders.  
I swung it a bit, trying to gain momentum. As soon as it was behind me, I pushed all of my weight forward, thrusting it into the air and ten or eleven feet across the floor.  
As soon as I let go, I fell face first into the ground, a cloud of dirt puffing up around me.  
Derek pressed the toe of his boot into my side, rolling me over to face him. He pulled me up by my shoulders, slamming me onto my feet as I coughed and sputtered.  
"How was that?" I asked.  
"Enlightening," he replied apathetically. "Now I want to see you run."  
"Where?"  
"Start at the other end of the platform, go up the stairs, over the railing and all the way back to me." He said.  
"Are you going to time me?" I asked.  
"No," he said. "I already know you can outrun a human, what I want to see is how tactfully you can do it. Use things around you to propel yourself. Think creative," he told me. "You're running away from bullets."  
"Alright," I said, nodding. "Alright, I can do that."  
"Good," he said. "One more thing." He walked over to a chest propped up against the train and opened it, fiddling inside of it for a few minutes. The chest was filled with metal chains, head gear, and shackles.  
I didn't even want to know what he used any of it for.  
"Ah ha!" He said finally, pulling something out slowly and carefully.  
He turned around, grinning mischievously. In his hands was a two foot long paintball gun with six oxygen chambers and a magazine full of green paintballs.  
"What the hell-" I began, but then he cut me off.  
"Training has officially begun," he said, pulling the thing up to his shoulder and aiming it at me.  
"Sh-" I began to spit out the profane word, but was cut off by a sharp pain shooting through my abdomen.  
I looked down to see a big green stain on my shirt, then looked back up at Derek just in time to watch him reach for the trigger again.  
I sidestepped in a millisecond, hopping a few feet at a time to reach the frame I'd tossed earlier.  
I hopped onto it, using it as a platform to hurl myself up, my hands catching one of the light fixtures.  
I held on loosely, quickly swinging myself backwards. A paintball hit, busting the light open just as I released and free flew to a ventilation tube. I grabbed onto it, claws sinking into the metal. I pulled myself up onto it, wasting no time at jumping the last six feet toward the top of the stare case.  
I didn't quite make it all the way up.  
My head landed between two steps, my body half dangling off the side. I pulled myself up just as another little orb zoomed past my head, missing me by no more than a centimeter.  
"You have got to be kidding me," I growled breathlessly. I swung my legs up over the side, climbing the last few steps on all fours. There was some railing where the second level of stairs connected to the first.  
Assuming that's what he was talking about, I climbed over it, sandwiching myself between the wall and the rails.  
I looked down, ten feet between me and the concrete.  
I closed my eyes and dropped, rolling a few times once I hit the ground.  
The paintballs kept flying at me as I made my way towards Derek, and I dodged them, each one just barely missing my flesh.  
"I thought you said come back to you!" I shouted at him.  
"I did," he said. "But I'm the enemy. Come to me, Charlie. Take me down"  
I growled, hopping into the train. Paint balls flew threw each window, hitting the metal insides just inches in front of me. I ran over the tops of the seats, and through the hole where the front door once hung.  
For a moment, I watched Derek's head whip around, searching for me.  
I took that opportunity to squeeze myself underneath the train, struggling to keep my breath even so that my heartbeat wouldn't give away my location.  
I watched his black boots pace the floor cautiously, each step calculated so as not to make much noise.  
I scooted closer to the very edge of my shelter, my hand opened and outstretched, waiting for an opportunity.  
Soon enough, his feet came close enough to me that I was able to grab hold of the bottom of his pant leg, yanking with all of my might. I didn't pull him down completely, but I threw his balance off enough that he toppled over himself, the gun skidding across the concrete.  
I slid out from my hiding place quickly, snatching the gun up and turning to fire.  
As soon as I pivoted, I saw Derek's golden eyes glowing just inches away from me. He yanked the gun, nearly dislocating my shoulder.  
I cried out, letting go of the handle. I slid across the floor, my elbows dragging the concrete.  
I sucked in air, turning on my side and pressing my arms up against my torso, biting my tongue so I didn't cry out.  
Derek's large form hovered over me, his face not quite clear as I struggled to focus my vision.  
"Not bad," he said. "Now do it again."  
"What?" I protested, hopping up from my place on the ground. I looked at my arms, skinned and bloodied, and wondered how I could possibly make it through something like that again.  
"You heard me," he said, staring at me with eyes not amused. He picked the gun up, aiming at me with no mercy in his stance.  
I groaned, trying not to pass out from having the breath knocked out of me. I forced my legs to pedal, pushing myself to my maximum energy output.  
We ran through the course over and over until I thought all of my limbs might fall off. Though there seemed to be less paintballs shot at me each time, the stress accelerated until finally I just collapsed onto the dirty floor and threw my arms out to the side, crucifixion style.  
"Get up," Derek commanded.  
"I can't," I said breathlessly. "I can't even feel my legs."  
Suddenly, I was yanked up by my shoulders, mine and Derek's noses just an inch away from each other.  
My feet dangled an uncomfortable length from the ground as his fingers dug into my skin.  
"Preparation is never over," he said. "These little courses I make you run- they're the difference between being one second ahead or one second too late. Understand?"  
I nodded.  
"Good," he said. "Now go change your shirt and get some rest. Once they get back, we have to lock up for the full moon."  
He set me back down on the ground, and I fell back into my arms spread position, this time laying on my stomach. "I'd almost rather the Argents shoot me," I muttered, my brain completely shutting off.  
I fell into a restless sleeping state where I was still aware of where I was, but I couldn't have gotten myself up off the ground even if I wanted to.  
I was so tired, so utterly exhausted that I didn't mind taking a dirt nap, literally or figuratively. I was just that extremely worn out.  
Soon, too soon, someone was shaking me awake. I didn't make a sound, I didn't move. I felt that, maybe if I pretended to be catatonic, whoever it was would just leave me alone and let me stay there in agonizing bliss. But, unfortunately, with the shaking came a voice. A soothing voice, that roused me just enough that I forced my eyes to unglue.  
"Hey," Isaac greeted me. He was kneeling beside me, a backpack on the ground beside him.  
"Hi," I said, forcing myself into a sitting position. I wiped the dirt from my face, groaning as my muscles ached in protest of my movements.  
"What, did Derek give you sleeping pills for breakfast or something?" He asked.  
I laughed, the mention of food making my stomach leap. "No," I said, rubbing my eyes, "paintballs."  
"You ate paintballs for breakfast?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me.  
"No, I spent the wee hours of the morning having paintballs shot at me," I said.  
"Ohhh," Isaac said, his voice empathetic and understanding. "Initiation," he said, pulling his jacket off.  
I couldn't help but watch the veins in his arms, so distinct through his pale, translucent looking skin. His muscles bulged around the cuff of his tee shirt, making his lanky frame seem a good deal more built than he actually was.  
"If you can call it that," I muttered, looking down at the huge stain on my shirt.  
I poked the scabs on my forearms, "Ouch." They were still very tender. My sleeves were shredded to pieces. I pulled at them, trying to find enough fabric to fold back over my arms.  
"I think it's time to retire that shirt," Isaac commented. "The back doesn't look any better than the sleeves."  
My fingers found their way to the backside of my shirt, or what was left of it. What I felt was mostly skin.  
I cursed, embarrassed that I hadn't noticed so much of myself was exposed.  
"I'll be right back," Isaac said, returning moments later with something black and soft looking in his hands.  
He tossed it into my lap and I unfolded it. It was a long sleeve ball park shirt with a pocket on the front and three buttons down the neckline.  
"That's the smallest one I have," he said. "I would go get something of Erica's, but I I'm sure you don't want that fight on your hands."  
I shook my head, "No," I agreed. "At least, not while I can barely feel my lower body."  
He laughed, "What did Derek make you do?"  
"Throw that thing," I said, pointing at the seat frame. "And run around the circumference of this whole place, ducking and rolling for four hours."  
"While shooting paintballs at you," he added.  
"While… shooting paintballs at me," I affirmed.  
I thought back to what my father used to do to me for training. I remembered how he'd tie roped around my wrist, so tight that they would bleed, and make me claw my way out of my binds. I remember how he used to pounce on me in the middle of the night, making me fight to keep his huge hands from smothering me. I could still smell the sweat of his palms, closing in over my nose and mouth, suffocating me as I fought with all the insane power I had.  
It never seemed enough, though, not for him. He'd always close off his sessions with a good slam against the wall, to remind me that no matter how well I was able to fend him off, he was still alpha. I never really understood why he did the things he did to me. I guess, in his mind, he was making me stronger. Preparing me. But for what, I couldn't know.  
All I knew was that Derek had a reason for his methods, and he wasn't trying to break me, he was trying to make me stronger.  
"It was hard the first time for me, too," he said. "It's still frustrating as hell most times."  
"It could always be worse," I said, switching my gaze from the floor to his face. "Where are Erica and Boyd?"  
"At home," he said. "They have to spend some time there, at least. Otherwise their parents would send out a search party."  
"What about yours?" I asked.  
"What? My parents?" He looked at the ground beneath him, his expression darkening. "I don't think I have to worry about that. There's about six feet of dirt between them and I."  
"Oh," I whispered. "I'm sorry…"  
"Don't be," Isaac said, shaking his head at me. "I never really knew my mother, and my father…" his voice trailed off. "Well, he was.."  
"I understand," I said. Believe me, I thought, I understand completely.  
For some reason, I couldn't help but try to look past the hardened, bad boy demeanor he had going.  
I mean, tight tee shirts and leather everything else, claws nearly constantly extended… Isaac had some identity issues, but nothing more severe than anything I'd personally encountered  
Past that smirk, and the refusal to make eye contact for more than two seconds, there was something more than arrogance. Something painful and well hidden.  
In fact, I wouldn't have recognized it, had it not been the same thing I saw every time I looked in a mirror.

* * *

**I need some help with this one. I know it's a good bit shorter than the first chapter, but I wasn't exactly sure how to go about continuing their conversation without Isaac being too out of character. So... should I continue their little chat in the next chapter (which WILL be longer)? If so, how? **

Also, I apologize for any misspelled words or grammatical errors. I'm very new to this site, so please be patient. THANK YOU!


	3. Trust Me

"Charlie, get out of here!" Derek growled, holding down the seat Isaac's leg was shackled to.  
I jumped up through the open door and onto a seat, grabbing the lights and unplugging them, quickly and one by one.  
"What the hell are you doing? I said get out of here!" Derek growled, every vein in his forehead protruding.  
"You told me I'd have to pull my own weight," I said. "Well, this is me doing what I'm told."  
I scooted past Erica and Boyd quickly, trying to avoid her mile high heels while sliding myself between the floor and the underside of a seat.  
I used the frame of the seat to hurl myself up, snapping the last light out of place.  
"How am I supposed to control them if I can't see them!" Derek fumed, lashing at me with his teeth.  
"Do you know how many times I've done this?" I asked, looking him directly in the eye.  
I grabbed the other end of Isaac's ankle cuffs. I unlocked it with a claw, slipping it off the leg of the seat and fastening it onto a pole a few inches away.  
I looked in his eyes, hoping there would only be specks of gold, that he wasn't too far gone for me to talk to sense into him.  
"Isaac, can you hear me? I need coherent words for an answer." I told him.  
He growled.  
"Sorry, didn't catch that. Try again."  
"Yes," he shouted. "I.. can hear you." His claws retracted a bit as his back contorted into an almost unnatural arch.  
He screamed out in agony. His body contorted violently, making me cringe a bit.  
"I need you to focus on my voice, can you do that for me?" I spoke loud and clear, my tone even so as not to promote any more rage.  
He nodded.  
"Words," I reminded him.  
"Yeah," he nodded breathlessly, grimacing again as his claws began to extend. "Yeah, I can do that."  
"Good. I've got this," I said, turning to Derek. "Now I need you to go shut the power off."  
"Are you crazy? I let them loose in the dark and they kill someone, you, me, or themselves." he argued.  
I looked back behind Isaac at Erica, thrashing about wildly and screaming bloody murder. Her cheeks bled from where her fangs had ripped open the skin. Boyd wasn't in much better condition as he held tightly onto the bars in front of him, bending them inward with sheer angry force.  
I'd seen wolves like this before, so out of control it was scary enough to petrify anyone who'd never encountered such a thing. I thought back to all the times I'd been throw in a room with one, left to my own devices to keep them from tearing me a part.  
And it was the human part of me, the fast thinking, logical part that thought there had to be a way to control such anger. And after a few times getting chewed to bits, I figured out what it was.  
"There's a trick to keeping a wolf under control," I said. "You give them one thing to focus on. No distractions, and it's one hundred times easier to find an anchor."  
Derek gave me a puzzled look.  
"I heard what you said to Isaac earlier, about finding something to focus on and keep the human side in control. I know exactly what you meant Derek, and I know how to help them find it. Now, please," I pleaded with him, trying to hold Isaac's hands down, away from his face, "trust me. And go turn the damn lights off."  
He nodded, backpedaling out of the entrance.  
I kneeled in front of Isaac, holding onto his wrists as tightly as I could.  
"I," he struggled out the words. "I think I'm… okay," he grunted, "for now. Go. Go help Boyd and Erica."  
"They're too wound up right now," I said. "I have to wait until the lights go off and they have a chance to let their senses settle. Full moons are extremely sensitive times, especially for the newly bitten like you three."  
His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he yelled again, his head thrashing from side to side.  
"Isaac," I called out his name. "Can you still hear me?"  
"I can," he said.  
"Remember how Derek told you that you need to find an anchor?" I asked him.  
"I do," he replied.  
"Good, well now is the time," I told him. "I know it's hard, but search your brain. Look for something, anything that reminds you of being human. It can be something like a girlfriend, someone you really cared about."  
He shook his head. "No, nothing like that."  
"Anger then, like Derek. Does anger work for you?" I asked.  
He grunted, straining to keep the demon inside of him at bay. I could tell that thinking about anger was only catalyzing the situation.  
"Okay, no more anger. Don't think angry," I said, letting go of one of his wrists to instead hold his hand.  
I'd found things like that were a more affective method than forcefully putting my hands on an out of control wolf.  
To find an anchor, I thought back.  
"To find an anchor, you have to think of something that's meaningful to you as a human. Maybe an object, or a feeling, or just an experience. Anything that makes you feel in control," I said. "Anything."  
"Okay," he said.  
"Do you have something?" I asked, looking up at him hopefully.  
His eyes were glued shut. He had them closed so hard I thought his eyelids might go through each other, but that force was the only way to counteract and suppress the uncontrollable pain and rage that went along with such a metamorphosis.  
"I'm working on it," he said, straining to spit the words out. "It's just.. Ha-har.."  
"It's hard, I know. Believe me I know. But listen to me, the lights will be off in a few seconds and I just want you to close your eyes and focus on your anchor. Do you have it in your mind?"  
He opened his eyes then, momentarily. They were blue, crystal clear and staring at me as if transfixed on my gaze. He studied me for a moment, calm and unmoving and then closed his eyes again.  
"I have it," he said, his fists unclenching. "But can you keep talking?"  
Just then, the lights shut off.  
I watched behind Isaac, Boyd and Erica's eyes glowing golden and angry in the background of the darkness.  
"Okay," I told him. "I'll keep talking. But keep your eyes closed. Focus on your anchor."  
"Focus," he muttered. "Focus. How do you know so- ah!" he grunted again, and I felt his muscles tense. "How do you know so much?" he asked, panting out the words.  
"Remember how I told you my dad liked to use me as an example?"  
"Yeah," he choked.  
"Well, this is one of my tasks he would use to exemplify the kind of self control he was looking for in a pack. He knew I could control myself, and well. He made me teach others," I said, trying not to let the memories come back too vividly. "Let's just say these aren't the first sets of bruises I've encountered."  
"That's horrible," Isaac whispered, his voice hoarse. Then I heard him choke back a cry again.  
I got up, trying not to let the intensity of the situation overwhelm me.  
In the back, they seemed calmer but not subdued in the least.  
"Isaac, I have to go back there and help the other two. Do you think you'll be okay?" I asked.  
He was quiet for a moment, trying to catch his breath before he answered.  
"I'll be fine," he rasped. "Go."  
I made my way down the aisle, my night vision kicking in slowly, but surely.  
I could make out the contours of Erica's face, a halo of metal bars protruding from her skull.  
I shuddered at the thought of ever having something like that around my head.  
"No wonder you're so pissed off," I commented.  
She lashed out at me, her chains rattling violently at her side.  
I grabbed her wrists, like I had Isaac's, holding them with a steady pressure.  
"Erica, I need you to listen to me," I said, trying to keep my voice at as non threatening a tone as possible.  
She shrieked out something that sounded like a "no", and then I knew I was in for a long night.  
"Please," I said, "I know you don't like me, Erica, but I'm trying to help you. If any part of you wants to fight this, you need to close your eyes and now."  
She calmed her body for a moment, her hands fidgeting weirdly.  
I watched the gold of her eyes disappear from the outcrop of black.  
"Can you hear me?" I asked, then waited for a moment, standing silently. "Erica, can you hear me?"  
"Let go of my arms," she growled, and I could feel her claws sink into my wrists.  
"Ah," I groaned, recoiling. "I'm just.. Trying to help you."  
"I don't need your help," she said, lashing at me again. "Get the hell out of my face!"  
I laughed a bit, rubbing the wounds on my wrist.  
"Your anchor," I said. "It's your loathing of me that keeps you grounded." I took one more step towards her and she growled, but this time it was all her doing.  
"I said get away from me," she yelled.  
"If I do that, you'll lose control again," I told her. "And how did that feel, huh? Did you like it? Do you want it to happen again?"  
She was silent.  
"That's what I thought," I said. "Now just focus on how much you'd like to kick my ass and keep picturing me winning that fight, because right now that's what's working in both of our favors."  
She hissed, "If I ever get out of the chains, I will kill you."  
"Now you're going around giving death threats," said an unfamiliar voice from behind. "Seems like Derek's really got a nice little teaching, support group going here."  
I turned around to see another pair of golden eyes, glowing vividly in the dark of the underground lair I was trapped in.  
"And who might you be?" I asked, wiping my wrists on my shirt tail.  
"Scott," he said. "Derek called me in for back up."  
"I've got it handled," I told him, turning back to Erica.  
She lashed at me again, fangs bared.  
"Yeah," he laughed. "I can see that. Now where is the almighty alpha?"  
I began to answer him, but before I could get the words out, Derek's voice was resonating throughout the trolley. "I'm right here," he said.  
He came up behind Scott, hands crossed over his broad chest.  
I could see clearly through the dark now, and watching the awkward body language of those two was as fascinating as it was hilarious.  
It was as if they were unsure of how to present themselves.  
"Scott, meet Charlie," Derek said. "Charlie, this is Scott.. The other wolf in town."  
"Nice to meet you," Scott said, glowering at Derek.  
"You, too," I replied, carefully loosening the bolts on Erica's head.  
Derek cleared his throat. "Now that introductions are all out of the way, let's get down to results. I see I've got one in the front, eyes closed like some Tibetan monk meditating on a distant hill. There's another one standing back here with blood pouring from her mouth, threatening to kill the only person that's helped her all day, and…"  
"Boyd," Scott said, walking over to his now still frame. "Hey, Boyd. Can you hear me?"  
"Scott?" Boyd muttered. "What the hell happened?"  
"The full moon," Scott told him  
Boyd groaned, his head falling into his hands. "I feel like someone sucker punched me with a tire iron."  
"Hey, you pulled through it like a champ though. Only broke one of your restraints." Scott said with a pat to his shoulder.  
I chuckled a bit.  
"Is this over now?" Erica asked impatiently, trying not to seethe too obviously as I loosened the last bolt.  
"For now," Derek said. "But it's hard to say if the effect of the full moon has run its entire course until the sun comes up."  
"So we have to stay like this all night?" Boyd demanded, frustrated.  
"Unfortunately," I replied. "It's just a precaution, though. As long as we cover all of our bases this moon, you should be able to get through next month with minimal restraints." I looked to Erica, "you, too."  
She smiled sarcastically.  
"Okay," Scott said, clapping his hands. "So we've got, what? Four and a half more hours?"  
I groaned. "It's only one o'clock?"  
He nodded.  
"Great, well.. Can you at least move my wrist chain down a notch so I can sit? These heels are killing my feet." Erica whined.  
I turned my head to roll my eyes as Derek unfastened and refastened her restraints.  
"Thanks," she hissed, glaring at me wildly as she took her seat.  
I turned to Derek. "I'm going to go before I cause another wave to hit her."  
"Okay," he nodded, "check on Isaac while you're at it."  
I made my way back down the aisle, slowly, holding onto the seats as a wave of exhaustion crashed over me.  
I hadn't slept well the night before and my body ached as my mind yearned for a nice, deep rest.  
Right before I got back to Isaac's seat, a wave of heat hit my face. I watched everything go from hazy to completely black, and then a searing pain shot up my neck.  
I could feel the warm blood trickle down my hand where my claws were beginning to extend. This hadn't happened to me in years, and it took me by such surprise that I nearly fell to my knees. Keep yourself in control, I thought, squeezing on a handle above my head until my finger marks were indented into it. I choked back a growl, my eyes stinging with rage. I dug my claws into my thighs, forcing myself to focus on the pain.  
Slowly, I was able to push back the anger and overwhelming bloodlust, but it was not without effort. It was like pushing a two ton boulder off of a cliff with my mind. It was hard, and when I finally had enough control to open my eyes, my head pounded with unbelievable intensity.  
"Charlie?" I heard Isaac's voice calling softly. "You okay?"  
"Yeah, I'll be fine" I said, wiping the hot liquid from my eyes. "it's just been a while since that happened to me."  
I yanked the bench adjacent to Isaac's up of the floor and scooted it around to face him.  
His eyes opened slowly, and only half way.  
"How do you feel?" I asked, slapping my cheeks slightly to stay alert.  
He sat himself up straighter, his nose scrunching in annoyance at the cuffs he'd forgotten were around his wrists.  
"Alright," he said, eyes on the ground.  
"What's wrong?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my cold body.  
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "I just… I don't know. It felt I was going to lose control there for a couple of minutes."  
I nodded. "That's completely normal. The fact that you didn't, especially being that this is only the second full moon you've ever encountered as a wolf, well that's extraordinary. Don't beat yourself up over almost losing it."  
"You're the only reason I didn't," he said.  
"I wouldn't give me that much credit," I said, lowering my eyes. "You're a lot stronger than you think, Isaac."  
"As a wolf or a person?"  
I looked up at him, trying to force a smile onto my tired face. "Both," I told him.  
He let his head fall back, closing his eyes again as the chill of the night fell silently over both of us.  
"Four and a half more hours?" He asked.  
"Yeah," I confirmed. "But it'll go by faster than you think."  
He turned his head away from me, to the grimy window. I watched his eyes float slowly in every direction, his expression solemn as he absentmindedly twisted his cuffs.  
I laid down, facing the back of the seat, tracing the pattern etched into the thin seat cover.  
Scott and Derek's voices were clear at first, but turned into a distant mumbling sound, completely incoherent as my mind drifted off to sleep.  
"Have you told her about the Argents yet, or the Kanima? Derek, does she even know what she's gotten herself into?" Scott's voice fumed. I could hear his footsteps echoing loudly as he paced the concrete ground outside the little train section.  
"Hey, she came looking for me," Derek said. "I didn't bite her, I didn't turn her. She showed up last night, asking to join my pack."  
"And you let her, knowing that she had no idea what she was signing up for? Very nice, Derek."  
Derek sighed, frustrated. "Look, you weren't there. You didn't see her arms. They were covered in bruises. If anyone's hiding anything, it's her, not me." He paused for a minute, then made another sound as if to say something, but Scott beat him to it.  
"Bruises?" He said. "Since yesterday? Those should heal in hours."  
Derek scoffed. "Really?"  
There was a pause, then he continued. "She's a wolf," Derek said. "I can smell it on her, but faintly. It's like she's not completely turned or something."  
"Is that even possible?" Scott asked.  
Derek sighed, "I don't know. I don't know what's possible anymore. What I do know is that, for now, she's helping. So I'm going to keep her around whether you and your little posse like it or not."  
"Okay," Scott said, defeated. "Fine. But you have to tell her about everything. The Argents, Jackson, the mortal danger she's put herself in by coming to you. Everything."  
"I planned on it," Derek said. "But first, I want to know who's controlling the Kanima."  
After that, I was too flustered to listen anymore.  
I knew that it wouldn't be long before someone realized I wasn't healing as rapidly as I should have, that my strength and agility weren't quite adequate. But I hadn't thought about when or how I would explain myself.  
Thinking about how quickly that time was approaching made my head spin.  
I pressed my palm to my ear, drowning out their voices, trying to force myself into another few hours of painfully restless sleep.  
Tomorrow, I knew, a lot of things would have to be shared in order for me to become a real part of Derek's pack.  
A lot of things… Including what I was.

* * *

As soon as I shut my eyes, my head swam with dark shadows of all the things I'd seen in my life. My father's eyes stared at me with an empty look, as if he couldn't actually see me. And I watched his face turn from indifferent to angry, and just as his fist came in contact with my face, I was running through the forest, giant jaws biting at my heels.  
I turned back to see the wolves, their red eyes gleaming manically under the shimmering moonlight. As soon as one got a little too close, and I lost my footing, toppling to the ground, I was flying through the air.  
Across a room, into a wall, sheet rock crumbling and powdering up around me, falling into my lungs and making my eyes sting. I coughed and sputtered wildly, trying to catch my breath, but nothing I did seemed to allow me to breath again.  
And just as I gasped and oxygen filled my lungs, I was submerged into a tub of water, fighting my way back up to the surface.  
My claws grabbed at the hands around my neck, forcing the back of my head down with fury and force.  
I felt my neck split with a sickening 'crack' as the last few bits of air escaped my lungs, and I watched the bubbles float past my face in half time.  
Then, I was wrapped around myself beneath a staircase, not breathing, trying to keep as still as possible. A dark, huge form made his way down the staircase, stopping at the foot of it to turn slowly, scanning the room with his malicious red eyes. Just as he was about to turn and make his way back up the steps, his eyes met mine and I knew.  
I knew then that this was the last time I'd ever feel any innocence. I remembered this as the night I lost trust in anyone. I watched his large body come towards me slowly, a sinister grin spread across his tight, thin lips.  
"No," I said, backing myself farther against a wall. "No, please don't"  
"Just trust me, sweet heart," he said. "This will make you so much stronger."  
And he grabbed me, crushing the breath out of me as I struggled against him, running but getting nowhere.  
I felt the needle find it's way through my flesh, and I screamed.  
"Stop!" I commanded feebly, "No."  
And then something odd happened. The room around me vanished, fading into oblivion. And I felt his arms so tightly around me, constricting me, shaking me.  
"Charlie," he said me name, but his voice was different. Calmer. Less intimidating.  
I opened my eyes, gasping as his arms released me from their crushing grip.  
"Charlie!" and then I knew, I knew that everything that had just happened wasn't real. It was all a dream, just a stupid nightmare.  
No, not a nightmare. A reminder.  
And I wondered how much they'd heard, how much I'd have to explain.  
I was relieved to wake up and find only Isaac's eyes looking at me with confusion and concern.  
I sat up quickly, scooting away from his grip. My mind was still in defense mode, and I couldn't help myself from jumping away, trying to escape the melody that was his voice.  
A voice that sounded so trusting, so luring. Maybe it's not over, I thought.  
But as he just sat there for a moment, looking at me with a cautious eye, I realized that I was back in the subway car, resting on an uncomfortable synthetic seat, panting and sweating like some mangy dog.  
"Your eye," Isaac said, reaching out to my face.  
I jumped again, and he paused, continuing only when I released my knees from my chest.  
He wiped my cheek, holding up his fingers for me to see. Blood. Dark red and metallic smelling. It made my stomach turn, and I wondered which part of the nightmare made me do that to myself.  
"Was I loud?" I asked, looking around to see if anyone else was staring at me, if I'd made a stupid spectacle of myself, as usual.  
"Your eye, you need to get that cleaned off," he said, ignoring my question.  
"I don't care about my eye," I snapped. "Did I yell?"_ like a weakling…_  
He shook his head, ripping a piece of the end of my shirt off. "No," he said. "No, you just looked like you were in pain. I didn't want to leave you to claw your eyes out."  
He ran the piece of shirt across the top of my cheek, and then down my cheek bone.  
I winced as he ran his fingers over the cut. It was deep, I could feel it. And swollen.  
"When I was first turned," he said, "my father threw a glass at me. It shattered and a shard sunk into my cheek." He looked at me, eyes boring through mine, trying to read my expression.  
I looked at him, puzzled. What was the point of telling me that?  
"It healed almost immediately." He said.  
"Oh." I didn't mean to say it out loud. It just happened. Like the nightmares, like me leaving, like these claw marks on my face. Everything had just happened. And now I was here, staring into the eyes of someone I wanted to be able to trust. And I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to tell him.  
"It'll heal soon," I told him. "It won't even leave a scar."  
"I heard what Derek said about you, when he was talking to Scott." He leaned closer to me, whispering on the off chance that Erica or Derek were awake to hear him.  
"What did you hear?" I asked.  
"Just what Derek said, about you not being completely turned. Is that true?"  
"No," I said. "No, that's not it."  
I thought back to the dream, the needle sinking into my neck. I could see that night. Vividly. It was almost as if I was back there, and I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, the sweat pouring down face as I struggled.  
I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the tears that flowed freely.  
"Hey, don't cry," he said. "I wasn't trying to threaten you, I just…" his voice trailed off, unsure of what else to say.  
"I'm going to have to tell Derek soon," I said, rubbing the tears away from eye cautiously. "And then you'll know. You'll all know."  
He nodded, my answer appeasing him just enough that he didn't pry. I guess he'd learned not to pry. Not with me, at least.  
He leaned back in his seat, blowing out air slowly, tapping his foot softly to some imaginary beat.  
"Hey, Isaac?" I called out to him.  
"Hmm?"  
"Thank you," I said.  
He smiled. "If we're going to be in the same pack, you're gonna have to stop being so superfluously thankful."  
"You could've just left me to claw my eye out," I pointed out.  
"Yeah, but," he said, turning his face to the window. "That would be a pure waste. Trust me."  
I took that as a compliment, falling back into my seat, imaging the pressure of his fingers on my cheeks again.  
I fell asleep watching his eyes trace the dirt stains on the window. And that night, I slept soundly, with not one more nightmare to speak of.


	4. When Alpha's Gone

_So.. this chapter is sort of pointless, but I mostly just wrote it for my own enjoyment. It's all about what betas do when Alpha's gone. Hope you like it!_

* * *

"What's the name again?"

"Hale," Isaac said, frustrated. "As in chunks of ice falling from the sky. Last name precipitating ice chunks, first name Derek."

The woman looked over to him, her eyes studying him with a vacant expression, some aggravatingly high pitched voice ranting loudly over the telephone against her left ear. "Sorry, you're going to have to call back later. The Sherriff isn't in right now. Yeah, I'll give him the message, Uh huh. Bye, now." She clicked the phone shut and leaned back over the desk, hands laced together.

"Look, kid. I've had twenty missing persons cases tossed on my lap in less than a month. That's quadruple the maximum I'd handled in the six months prior to that. The statute of limitations states clearly that a person must be vanished for at least twenty-four hours before being considered missing. There is nothing I can do for you today. Go home, get some rest, keep your phone on. And if-"

The phone rang again and she picked it up, telling yet another obnoxious voice to 'hold for one moment, please', "Where was I? Oh, yeah… If your friend hasn't shown up by tomorrow, then we can file a formal report. Sound good?"

I could hear the pounding in Isaac's chest as his pulse rose in frustration.

His claws extended and just as he was about to open his mouth to give the woman what I imagined would be a colorfully worded reply, I stepped in between him and the desk, pushing his hands out of view.

"We understand," I said with a polite smile. "Thank you for all of your help, and if nothing's changed we'll come back in tomorrow."

She nodded contentedly, turning her full attention back to the stacks of paper on her desk.

Isaac stormed out of the building, huffing with frustration as we made our way back to Derek's car.

"Get in," I told him, gesturing to the passenger side.

He looked at me with perplexity. "Are you even old enough to drive?"

"What's it matter," I said. "It's not like these cops are going to do anything about it."

He shrugged and slinked into the seat beside me, running his fingers through his hair.

" Okay, so Derek's been missing since early this morning," I said. "Not that long, right? Maybe he's already returned while we were gone looking for him."

"Better hope not," Isaac muttered. "He'd kill me if he found out we used his car."

"We probably need to stop and fill up the tank, then," I replied absentmindedly. "Do you think you can handle putting money on a pump?"

"Maybe. If the cashier isn't as much of a numbskull as that deputy."

I sighed, pulling into the nearest gas station. "I'll pay," I said, yanking my wallet out of my pocket and fumbling through trying to find something that wasn't a one dollar bill.

When I got back, I handed Isaac a bottle of water and popped my own open, gulping down the cool liquid as if it was the first time I'd ever had something so clean and refreshing.

"Do you know of anywhere he could've went? A hiding spot, or… a family member's house, maybe?" I asked as Isaac stood, propped up against the back door of Derek's Camaro, pumping the gas with one hand and flicking his claws in and out with the other.

He was obsessed with them, I determined. Isaac seemed like the kind of guy to have a superiority complex, with a bit of insecurity.

Like my father, he was constantly doing things to attest his strength. But subtle things. Like crushing a can between two fingers, or stabbing a fly with his pinky.

Or extending and retracting his claws repeatedly.

Just to prove to himself, and show everyone else that he had weaponry and he wasn't afraid to use it.

I wondered, momentarily, what made him like that.

Then I remembered what he'd said about his father, and I knew…

He just wanted to remind himself that he was no longer so weak and vulnerable, that this power wasn't just a really good dream.

"Isaac?"

"What? Oh, yeah," he retracted his claws and shoved his hand in his pocket, the meter in front of us ticking slowly. "No, I'm pretty sure Derek has nowhere to hide. His whole family burned in a fire a few years back. And besides, why would he leave without his pack? Something_ must_ have happened to him."

"Yeah, you're right," I sighed.

He closed up the tank and hopped into the driver's side, opening the door for me through the car.

"So chivalry isn't dead," I mused.

"I had to unlock the door for you," he said. "I never leave doors open when I get out of a car."

"Paranoid much?"

"Spawned from years of living in less than desirable areas," Isaac stated. "Now buckle up."

"Where are we going?" I asked as Isaac chugged out onto the backwoods road, driving much too cautiously for a teenage boy.

"Somewhere I can think," he said.

"Which would be where? A super secret underground lair?"

He smirked. "No, not exactly."

* * *

When Isaac said he needed somewhere to think, I imagined he'd some peaceful clearing in the woods. Or maybe a bright, flowery park where children skipped across the lawn and birds chirped above their carefree little heads.

But I didn't stop to think that Isaac wasn't exactly some homework-overwhelmed youth looking to escape a stuffy apartment.

He was the mysterious, reclusive type that channeled his emotions by acts of silent aggression and tests of strength.

"Ready?" He asked, a sly grin blossoming across his face.

"As I'll ever be," I replied quietly, trying not to cringe as he reared his lacrosse stick back and launched a ball straight at my gut.

Luckily, I was able to watch it float across the air in half-time, doubling my speed as I jumped and contorted my elbows, catching the balls just as it breezed by my knee.

"Have you done this before?"

"Something like it," I replied, trying to slow my heart rate.

We'd broken into the school just a few minutes prior. Isaac breezed right past the security cameras, saying they weren't on. And… even if they were, he had no fear to gain from Gerard Argent, the man who played principal. The man who was hell bent on exterminating any werewolf that unwittingly crossed his path.

I felt a knot tighten in my chest as he slinked into the boys' locker room, which smelled of mildew and, well… sweaty teenage boys.

_Lots of them_, I thought, wrinkling my nose at the overpowering scent.

"God, how do you stand this? It smells like a stew of testosterone and gym socks."

"Nobody asked you to follow me," he commented, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Right," I nodded.

And then somehow I ended up playing goalie to Isaac's pumped up, wolf-y sports therapy experiment.

I'd never played lacrosse before, I wasn't even sure what all the equipment was called or what it was for. But for whatever reason, tossing the ball focused Isaac.

I could watch the tortured expression on his face fade away as he became one with the wet grass of the sloppy field.

And his dexterity was so mesmerizing that I nearly found myself subject to more than a few bruises from letting some of his tosses almost get the best of me.

Finally, after dodging and catching and missing and dropping for what seemed like an hour, I let my exhaustion take hold and one ball whizzed through the air at full speed. I lost focus, a sharp pain shooting through the bottom of my chest.

I heard a loud crack as the ball made contact with my rib and I doubled over, sucking in air harshly.

Isaac spat out some profane word and dropped his stick at my feet, tugging at my hand as lowered myself to a sitting position.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you'd have trouble catching that."

"It's fine. It's my fault. I should've paid more attention. Ouch!" I yelped like a puppy as he lifted up the hem of my- _his _shirt, examining the huge red welt which was already turning horrible shades of purple.

"Looks like its broken," he said.

"Broken? No," I said. "I think it's completely shattered."

It hurt to breathe, so I forced myself to keep from inhaling too deeply.

"Sorry," he said, muttering the word over and over again, his eyes tracing the bruise, his expression more troubled than when we'd first started.

I pushed his hand away and caught his attention, the tips of his fingers were ice cold and he recoiled slightly at my touch.

"It's okay," I said, shaking my head. "It's not your fault."

"Maybe," he said, exhaling. "Maybe this wasn't the best idea."

"Did it help focus you any?"

"Well, until I cracked your ribcage, I was so zoned in I probably would've been able to actually _pass _A.P. Calculus."

I laughed, struggling to my feet.

"Well then, I'd say the cracked rib is worth it. It'll heal," I assured him, hugging my side as I bent to pick up my stick.

"I've got it," he said. "I'll put these up and then we can go. Think you can make it to the car by yourself?"

"Definitely," I said, feeling relieved that I'd be sitting down soon.

When Isaac made it back to the car, I was already reclined in the passenger seat, the A/C going full blast and some down beat, jazzy guitar song playing on the radio.

"Time to head back to base?" I asked, tugging at some frayed strings on the cuff of the shirt I was wearing.

It was comfy, and soft, and it smelled faintly of cheap body spray and fabric softener, as if it had been left in the dryer for a couple of days.

"Not quite," Isaac said as he punched the accelerator. "Hungry?"

"Famished," I replied, watching the dark green forestry blur together as we cruised down the empty road, nothing but pavement ahead of us.

* * *

"Do you think Erica's going to be pissed when we get back?" I asked as I shoved a fist full of gummy worms in my mouth, barely bothering to chew before gulping the lot down.

"That's like asking if the sun will rise in the morning," Isaac said, slurping at a milkshake. "Your answer will remain unchanging, no matter the circumstances."

"Is it because she harbors such a deep loathing for me?" I asked.

"Erica hates anything that isn't clothes, shoes, or Derek."

"Oh," I said. "What about you?"

He coughed out of surprise, swerving a bit as he choked down a mouthful of vanilla. "If you're asking if there's something between us, the answer is no. Derek has plans for Erica, and thankfully none of them include me as the main attraction. Literally or figuratively."

"And what are Derek's plans for you?"

"I don't know," Isaac said, glancing over at me.

"What about Boyd?"

"Now that, I definitely don't know," Isaac said, placing his cup back into the holder beside me. "Derek just needed a pack, and we were available. He uses Erica because her feminine woes are-"

"Deeply more persuasive than any obtuse force you or Boyd could exert?"

"I was going to say less physically destructive, but that works, too." His long brows furrowed as he focused on the road ahead, driving in a precise manner.

"You don't think he'll try to use me like that, do you?" I asked, a momentary wave of self consciousness making me tuck my gummy worms into the side of the door.

Isaac looked over at me, his eyes trailing quickly from my shoes to my hair. Then he chuckled.

"What?"

"Unless there's a werewolf mixed in with a class of seventh graders, I don't think he's going to order you to romance anyone."

"Shut up," I commanded defensively. "I'm well past the seventh grade."

"Well, how old are you then?" Isaac asked.

"Why does it matter?"

"Why are you so secretive about it?"

"I'm not being secretive. If you want to know how old I am, I'll tell you. But I just don't see why it matters," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and then uncrossing them once I realized how much it hurt to contract my rib muscle like that.

He looked at me un-amused and then turned his attention back to the road.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, I spoke up.

"Sixteen," I said. "I just turned sixteen a month ago."

"Liar," he accused.

"No, I'm serious. I'm sixteen. I'd offer you a birth certificate, but I kind of left all of the identifying documents in their place when I ran away…"

"Why did you run away?" Isaac asked, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

I shook my head, looking out of the window, trying to dissolve myself into the scenery outside of my window.

_If only I could be a bird or a tree_, I thought. _Everything would be so much simpler_.

"I got tired of being beat up," I said simply.

"No," he said. "Something must've happened for you to just up and decide to run. You put up with it for so long, what made you decide that night that you wanted out?"

"I've wanted out for a long time, Isaac." "What made you decide to act on it?"

"So inquisitive," I redirected the conversation. "What about you, huh? What if I asked you what all of the sudden made you want to become a wolf?"

He ran his fingers through his hair again, resting his elbow in the window sill.

"I didn't go looking to get bitten. Derek found me working one night, and said I could either accept or refuse his proposal, but I would never get it again. So I took it, on a whim."

"Just a stroke of luck?"

"If you can call it that," Isaac said softly.

"I didn't want to die," I said quietly.

And uttering those words made me realize how powerless I really was.

To anyone else, I was beyond average strength. I had super powers, I was nearly indestructible.

Any blow, or almost any blow, was recoverable. I didn't have to go to a hospital to heal, my body did that naturally.

I nearly had to die to even disrupt my genes' natural tendency to super-maintain homeostasis. I was irregular in the best sense, and science would tell you that.

And thought I knew this since I was a little girl in pre-school, I also knew that when it came to my home, I was completely defenseless.

The intellect, the speed, the strength, they meant nothing against the force of oppression that was my father.

And for years I bore that weight silently.

Like Atlas holding up the world, I held up a pretend life for the world to see, and for only me to see past.

I'd never opened up to anyone, nor had the desire to. Because I knew that any mundane person I could've talked to wouldn't have believed me. And if they had…well, who would ever be able to understand exactly what I had endured?

I didn't think it possible, that anyone could ever fathom the pain and emotional exhaustion I was subject to.

That is, until I looked into Isaac Lahey's eyes and saw the same expression of anxiety and uncertainty… and fear. Fear of the worst kind.

Fear that someone you could love so wholly, someone who could be your world, could also be your downfall.

And he knew and I knew that family bonds were expendable.

And something about his understanding, even if he didn't understand it, made me feel compelled to share everything with him.

For a moment, I wanted to lay everything out on the table- bear my soul to him and let him do with it as he would.

But I couldn't, not then. Not when I was so close falling apart.

"Do you think he'll come looking for you? Your father, I mean."

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said. "Out of worry, no. But if it makes him angry enough, if he takes my running away as a challenge, well… he'll find me. And he'll probably kill me."

_If I should be so lucky_, I thought.

"No he won't," Isaac said.

I wanted to ask him what made him think that, but then I decided that I didn't really care.

Isaac didn't know my father. And the less he knew, the better.

Because if the time came, my father would take down me and only me. And it would prove what he'd taught me all along: he always wins.

* * *

"Where have you two been?" Erica demanded, bombarding us as soon as we made our way into the entrance of the subway station, bags of groceries in our hands.

"Out," Isaac replied simply and brushed past her with one swift motion of his shoulder.

She scoffed, turning her attention back to me, stepping closer as I began to move around her.

"Where do you think you're going?" she said in a sinister tone.

I scowled. "To put these bags down," I told her, not wanting to start a fight while Derek wasn't here to pull us apart.

"Hmm.." she mused, staring at me with suspicion in her eyes.

I gritted my teeth and smiled.

"Well, here, let me help you with that," Erica said, tilting her head to the side and putting one hand underneath the paper bag in my arm.

Before I could load the package off into her arms, though, a sly smirk plastered itself across her air-brushed looking face.

"On second thought, it looks like you've got it covered." She said, pulling back her hand to reveal one single claw protruding from her index finger.

I felt the bottom fall out of the bag as I looked down, one perfectly straight line sliced across the bottom of it.

I glared at her and she smiled in return. "Good luck with that," she chirped, bouncing her way daintily down the stairs as a few apples rolled down behind her.

"Bitch." I said quietly.

"What's that?"

I stuck my tongue out at the back of her head, stabbing each apple with a claw in order to pick them up.

When I got at the bottom of the stairs, Boyd and Isaac were sitting on some concrete blocks they'd moved to beside the car, staring at the apples in my hand.

I placed the bags in my arm on a dusty table and tossed an apple to each of the boys, taking a bite of the one Erica had been eyeing.

"Any sign of Derek?" Boyd asked.

"No," Isaac and I answered simultaneously, taking a quick glance at each other before Isaac continued.

"We checked with the police and they said there've been no bodies surfaced in the past ten hours."

"Did you ask about filing a missing persons report?"

"Yeah, and he has to be gone twenty four hours before we can do that."

"Great," Erica said. "So we're no closer to finding him than we were this morning. And instead of looking for new leads, you two spent all day gallivanting through town. What, did you give her a tour… or," Erica paused, her voice getting facetious, "did you take her somewhere special?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Give it up, Erica. We went to find Derek, and when that didn't work we stopped to get food. That's it. And," he said, walking over to her, a smile playing on his lips, "so what if we did go somewhere special?"

"Well, it doesn't matter to me," Erica said, looking at me. "I was just asking because Derek would be less than pleased to find out that two of his pack were out fooling around while he's missing and Jackson's out there unconsciously exterminating people."

"How do you know he's not just faking?" Boyd said.

"You heard what Derek said," Erica turned to him. "The Kanima is a totally different entity from Jackson."

"And it needs a master," Isaac said. "It has to have someone to tell it what to do. Jackson isn't killing people, someone else is." Isaac paused for a moment, as if he'd just thought of something, and then he said thoughtfully, "You know, maybe Derek found a lead and decided to follow it."

"Why wouldn't he tell us if he'd found something?" Erica asked, leaning up against a rusty steal support beam.

"I don't know," Isaac said, shaking his head in frustration.

"I'll tell you what I know," Boyd said. "I'm sick of being in the dark. Derek tells us what to do and when to do it, no questions asked. But he gets to do whatever the hell he wants -like disappearing- without so much as a letter, a phone call, or a statement ambiguously hinting at where he may go."

I sighed, "The perks of being an alpha."

Boyd turned to me and I walked over closer to them, "Derek's the alpha," I said. "He doesn't have to tell us what he's planning or why, he just has to tell us what to do. Full authority rests with him, whether you like it or not. He doesn't owe you an explanation."

He looked at me as if I'd insulted him. "I'm not saying it makes me particularly happy, but that's how it is."

"What if I left, could he tell me what to do then?" Boyd asked, a challenging tone in his voice.

"What, do you mean like joining another pack?"

I looked over at Isaac, who was watching Boyd's fury in silent amusement.

Erica stood behind him, watching just as silently, sweat beads of apprehension rolling down her face.

"I mean… what if I made my own pack?" Boyd said, ferocity twinkling in his eyes.

I would've laughed at such a preposterous statement had I not seen how completely genuine he was being with his inquiry. I shook my head at him, trying to fight back the amusement that threatened to manifest into a chuckle.

"Things don't work like that," I said.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, pressing me for answers that I assumed had been eating at him for quite some time.

I didn't want to push him into the direction of attempting to start his own pack. If anything, I wanted to tell him without saying the words, that he was lucky to be in a pack with an alpha instead of out there on his own. I wanted to dissuade him from leaving, because leaving meant becoming an omega. And becoming an omega almost certainly meant death.

My father had taught me that, also.

So I chose my words carefully.

"Wolf packs aren't formed overnight," I said. "Most of the alphas I know of, my father included, come from a long lineage of wolves with centuries-old and strongly established reputations. You start off with an alpha couple, they produce a few betas. And when those betas are old enough, they recruit."

I took a moment, peering around the room into each one of their eyes, stopping when I got to Boyd.

"Starting a pack with no assistance is almost certainly setting yourself up for failure. You break off from a pack, you become an omega. And you're on the run, trying to dodge alphas as you wander in and out of their territory. If you're lucky enough, you might find someone else to take you in. But unless you rip Derek's throat out, there's no way you'll have your own pack," I looked at Erica and Isaac. "Unless you two are willing to help him, that is."

Erica shook her head, and Isaac just lowered his chin, staying silent.

"I'm not going against Derek," Erica said. "If anything, I owe him. And, no offense Boyd, but I trust him as an authority figure more than you."

"He does have the experience advantage," Isaac offered.

I looked back to Boyd, who was listening intently, eyes swimming with ideas.

"I'm just trying to tell you the truth. I know that Derek's authority over you is at times uncomfortable, but you're so much better off with someone to have your back. And in all honesty," I said, lowering my eyes and my voice. "Your alpha could be worse. _So much worse."_

* * *

**I noticed a severe lack of Pack Hale in last night's episode, so I wrote this as a sort of insight into what they did while Derek was missing. Including my character, of course.**

**Since I'm trying to keep it as close to the actually story line as possible, I'll write a new chapter after every episode.**

**Reviews are very welcome. Suggestions, concerns, praises, or even critisisms. Anything. Please, please, PLEASE review. Much appreciation to everyone following this story -Marissa**


	5. Choices

_**Okay, so... I don't know how many of you saw last night's TW, but that scene with Isaac and the puppy.. I literally cried. It was beautiful, and Isaac is beautiful, and good God I wish I could write like Jeff Davis. But here's the most recent chapter. I hope you guys enjoy!**_

* * *

Derek showed up at a quarter past six, rushing through without so much as a 'hey guys, bye guys,'.

There was no explanation as to where he'd been all day, and no heads up as to where he was going or when he'd be back.

We sat for a moment, waiting to see if Derek was going to say anything. But he just looked around the room and said "I'll be back later," leaving Boyd, Erica, Isaac and I sitting and staring at each other with purely perplexed expressions.

Erica's ruby red lips pouted and the lines in her forehead were prominent beneath the inch of make up she had artistically caked onto her face. Her perfectly penciled eyebrows were now smudged and lopsided, drawn together in confusion and aggravation.

Isaac sat on the floor, hands crossed over his knees, staring at nothing with a pensive gaze.

And Boyd was beside me, tapping his feet as if he had somewhere to be.

We sat like that for a while, not a sound made but the dripping of old rusted drain pipes and the buzzing of shorted out circuits above head.

Finally, Boyd exhaled and spoke. "I need to get going," he said. "I can't sit around all night and wait for the next time he comes back through to tell us absolutely nothing."

Isaac nodded in agreeance, "I'll let you know if anything happens."

"Thanks," Boyd replied, standing up to brush himself off. "Later you two," he said, looking at Erica and Isaac. Then he turned to me, lifting one huge hand in goodbye. "Bye, Charlie."

"See you later," I said, repositioning my foot which had fallen asleep whilst tucked underneath me.

As soon as we hear the door close upstairs, Erica's blank expression took on an air of annoyance.

"_Bye, Charlie,_" she mocked, crossing her hands over her chest.

Before I could respond, Isaac looked up out of his dazed state and frowned at her, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked, clearly fed up with her hostility.

"Nope," she smiled at him. "My parents are _out_ for the night, and _I_ am staying at a friend's house."

I almost laughed at the idea of someone as intolerable as Erica having an actual friend instead of a pack who just had to put up with her.

"Well if you're not going to leave, the least you can do is try _not_ to be such a-"

"Bitch?" Erica cut him off. "I've got news for you, Lahey. I _am_ a bitch. Literally. And who are you to tell me to be nice? This coming from the pompous, recently proclaimed school tyrant. The only reason you're not being as much of an asshole to her as you are to everyone else is because you can relate to her daddy issues."

I looked at her, stunned. Had Isaac-?

"Oh, what? You're surprised that I know how you got those bruises?" Erica said, standing up, her eyes jeering me. "How could I not? All that damn screaming you do at night."

I looked to Isaac, "You said I didn't…"

"Oh, did he?" Erica cut in. "'No, dad, please don't!', 'Stop it, daddy, stop it!'" she mocked me. "You may have played the abused little kid card on Derek, and it may have worked. But you're not getting any sympathy from me. Everybody's got problems to deal with, but you are not our responsibility. You scared little-"

"_Scared_?" I said, jumping up, my claws ripping through my fingers. "You think I'm scared?" I growled, walking over to her smirking little plastic frame with malicious intent.

Before she could move to stop me, I'd jumped onto her, my fingers closing around her throat, blood running from where my claws had pierced the ivory flesh of her neck.

She struggled against me, but I was too angry to let go. Even when her face started turning purple.

"Do I look scared, Erica?" I raged, feeling the heat flash across my eyes as they glowed red.

I could hear the pounding of her heat accelerate as she slowly ran out of oxygen. The beat of my own heart, pumping with adrenaline coursed through my ears, deafening me against any noise but the gurgling sound escaping her glossed lips.

I faintly heard someone shouting my name before iron arms were wrapped around my torso, yanking me off of her just before the last bit of light left her eyes.

I flew back onto the concrete ground, the red disappearing as my head hit a steal beam.

I blinked hard, trying to shake away the ringing sound in my ears. I looked up to see Isaac, staring at me in disbelief, Erica behind him, rolling over onto her side whilst making awful gagging sounds.

My mouth hung opened momentarily, as I struggled to realize exactly what I'd just done.

I shook my head, peeling myself off of the ground, forcing my claws to retract.

"I-" I began, choking on my words. "I'm sorry." I whispered, backing away.

"No, but you're gonna be," Erica threatened, pushing herself off of the ground.

Isaac went to grab her, and just as she started clawing at him and cursing me, I turned and launched myself up the stairs, running out into the dark night without a clue of where I was going.

I flung the cover back over the entrance and sped down the alleyway, not stopping until my lungs burned so bad against the cold that I began to gag.

I fell to the ground, sliding up against a dark brick wall, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"Stupid," I muttered to myself, though I wasn't sure if I was referring to myself or Erica. "So stupid."

I hadn't fallen into a rage like that in years, since I'd almost ripped a boy's throat out in fifth grade for throwing his lunch at me while I sat in the bleachers reading during lunch time.

That day was the last day I'd ever gotten anywhere near that angry, the first time since I was nine years old that I'd lost control so completely and let the animal side of me do as it pleased.

All the years, the needles, the gallons of serum pumped into my veins to alter my abilities, it had made it extremely difficult to contain the beast in times of rage.

I'd learned to be more passive, but for some time it was nearly impossible to stay in control.

But, slowly, I'd put myself back in charge of my actions.

Until this night, that is, that Erica decided to test me- to push me on the lowest levels until I snapped.

I buried my head between my legs, trying to not even think about what I'd have to face when Derek returned and found out what I'd done.

_If I ever find my way back, that is_, I thought.

"Looking a little distressed there," said an unfamiliar voice.

I looked up to see a forty-something man standing over me, a black dress jacket fitting snug across his shoulders, and perfectly combed back curls gelled down onto his crown in dark waves.

An unsettling grin spread across his face as he addressed me.

"Who are you?" I asked, not afraid that he'd hurt me. I was twice as strong as a grown man, after all. I had nothing to fear of him.

"I'm Peter," he said, offering a hand to me. "And you are?"

"I'm nobody," I said, pulling myself up.

"Now, now," he chuckled. "I wouldn't say you're nobody. In fact," he paused, his eyes flashing golden, "I'd say you're somebody very special. Is that right?"

I stepped back apprehensively, wishing I would've just bitten the bullet with Erica and stayed back at the station.

"Are you another alpha?" I asked.

"No, not exactly," he responded. I decided not to question him further, feeling that even if I did I would never really get answer.

"Why are you here?" I asked him. "Did my father send you?"

"So inquisitive," he commented. "No, I'm afraid your father didn't send me. I merely _happened_ upon you on my way somewhere else. Were _you_ on your way somewhere else? Back to your pack, perhaps?"

"Away from them, actually. I," I paused for a moment, my silly indiscretions making me blush with shame, "I got in a fight."

The rest of the conversation was strange. This fellow wolf named Peter asked questions, but indirectly, as if he were asking them to affirm suspicion rather than get an answer.

He asked where I was from, what I was doing, who my alpha was, and of course I lied my ass off.

I didn't know this man, and I didn't trust him.

Showing up out of the blue like that right at my most vulnerable second, there was no way that had been coincidence.

He had to have been watching us. And I didn't want to know why, I just wanted to get out of there.

So I told him politely that I had to leave, turning the corner sharply with a paranoid glance over my shoulder every few minutes.

He didn't follow me.

But I got the strange feeling that it was because he didn't need to.

When I got back to the train station, there was a note saying that they'd moved, the base had been compromised.

There was a note saying 'Go back to where you first found us.'

And it wasn't easy, but somehow I managed to turn around enough times that there weren't anymore places to get lost at _but_ the place I'd been looking for.

So I made it to the clearing, sniffing around until I found one of Isaac's jackets with a note of directions laying underneath it.

I smiled when I recognized it was the same jacket he'd draped around my shoulders the night I found them.

I shrugged into it, memorizing the directions and then slipping the note into my back pocket for safe keeping.

When I finally found the house, I thought the directions must've been mistaken.

In front of me stood a large, half burned to the ground home in the middle of nowhere. With no set driveway and only half of a porch that wasn't completely destroyed.

I considered that they'd been fed up with me and left, leading me on a wild goose chase to give them time to get far enough away that I couldn't track them.

But then I realized how silly that notion was.

If Derek didn't want to be bothered with me, all he had to do was exile me. Or kill me. And I would be out of his mane for good.

So I crept my way through the front door, feeling like an intruder as the floorboards creaked underneath my tiptoeing feet.

The place was charred inside and out, old mildew-y wall paper sagging and curled, half peeled off the walls whose support beams were visible through the gaping holes.

'_His whole family burned in a fire a few years back'_ Isaac's voice echoed in the back of my mind.

I shuddered, an eeriness falling over me.

I made my way down the stairs to the basement where Derek and Isaac was lounging about, fiddling with broken shards of glass.

"Where's Erica?" was the first thing I asked when I made eye contact with Isaac, hoping I hadn't damaged her too severely.

"Her and Boyd are off gallivanting in the woods," Isaac answered.

"Oh," I replied, wondering what made them decide suddenly to pick up and go off on an evening hike.

"And they should be back any time now," Derek said.

He stood up, his abnormally large muscles and threatening demeanor making me feel like a mouse at the feet of a lion.

"She told me what happened," Derek said, glaring at me through his furrowed, caterpillar like eyebrows.

"I-I'm sorry," I said. "I really am. I didn't mean to lose control like that-"

"Excuses," Derek cut me off, "will get you nowhere with me. It's like a fly buzzing in my ears. Isaac told me what she said, and if you ask me she could use a little attitude adjustment."

I sighed, relieved.

"But-" Derek continued, and I tensed up again, "you need to realize that there are much bigger things going on here than some bad feelings between two female betas. And if you're going to stay, you need to get over that. Are we clear?"

I nodded, shuffling my feet.

"Good," he said. "For now, you get a pass. But I don't want you here when she comes back. Isaac,"

Isaac looked up from his glass shard, shaking his knee has Derek addressed him. "Yeah, um," he began, wiping the back of his neck, "I have an errand to run. If you want to come with me-"

"No, she's _going_ with you," Derek said. "And I don't want either of you back until I've had a chance to talk to the other two."

"Alright," Isaac said, nodding as he got up and turned to me. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," I said, turning to Derek momentarily. "Thank you."

He glared back in reply, his arms crossed over his chest.

I turned around, following Isaac out of the house and into the woods from which I'd just spent the better part of three hours.

"No car?" I asked, wondering what good the thing was doing just sitting by the house.

Isaac laughed, not even bothering to answer that question.

We walked in silence for half an hour, Isaac's hands shoved as deep down in his pockets as they could go, shoulders hunched over as if he were looking for something.

"Did you want your jacket back?" I asked.

"No," he shook his head, distractedly staring at the wooded carpet.

"I didn't get you in trouble with Derek too, did I?"

"No," Isaac said, stopping to look at me. "No, that's not it."

"What is it, then?" I asked, stepping ahead of him.

He continued walking, not answering me for quite a few minutes.

I didn't bother him. His brows were drawn together, his stare glazed as if he were in an almost petrified type deep thought. I didn't have any idea what he was pondering, but I knew that it had to be something important for him to be so quiet, and I shouldn't disrupt him.

So I waited, following closely at his heels as we made our way through the abnormally bare looking forest.

I watched the back of his head bob as he stepped, his silhouette thin against the outcrop of trees.

"There's something I have to tell you," he said finally. "And it's kind of a big deal."

"Okay," I said, bracing myself.

"Erica and Boyd," Isaac said, exhaling as he ran his hand through his hair and down his neck, "they're going to leave."

"What, you mean tonight? Right now?"

"No, but soon."

"Why?" I asked. "I mean, Derek's really not that bad and if it's me that bothers them, I can go…"

"No," he whispered. "No, it's not you. Charlie, there's so much you don't know."

"Tell me, then."

He looked over at me apprehensively.

"Isaac, please," I pleaded. "It seems like I haven't done one thing right since I got here. I can get by with being the outcast, but being ignorant on top of that might just get me killed. I need to know, what haven't I been told?"

He sucked in the cold air, his breath forming a cloud of steam as it exited his mouth.

"You know about the Argents; they kill us for being what we are, they have no law code anymore. But there's more to them than that. They have something, a weapon of sorts and their patriarch, Gerard… well, he's the psycho orchestrating the whole thing."

"Weapon? What kind of weapon?"

"A student, a teammate of mine. His name is Jackson. Derek gave him the bite around the same time as me, but he didn't turn into a werewolf and he didn't die. He shifted into this- this _thing_."

"What kind of thing?"

"A murderous, soulless, reptilian type monster called the-"

"Kanima," I finished, the pit of my stomach freezing over with fright. "I heard Scott and Derek talking about it the other night. You're telling me the Argents are the ones controlling him? That is absolutely insane, Isaac. He could easily kill one us with of flick of his claw!"

"I know," Isaac said. "We all know. And that's part of the reason they've decided to leave."

"_Part_ of the reason? You mean there's more?" I asked, feeling my eyes widen to twice their size.

"When Derek _overthrew _the last alpha, his uncle, Gerard's daughter was caught up in the mess. She was killed. And Gerard showed up for her funeral, taking over and barking orders. But he didn't just come back for his daughter's funeral. He came back for revenge, Charlie, and I don't think he's going to stop until he's spilled every last drop of werewolf blood there is to spill."

I stopped walking, my head spinning with the enormity of all the information Isaac was feeding me.

A troop of hunters, I could deal with. But a troop of lawless, blood thirsty, kanima-weilding hunters out for vengeance… Well, that was a different story.

"And it's not like you can just kill him," I said. "The kanima prevents you from that."

Isaac nodded. "They've started a war," he said. "And we've been fighting ever since, but Derek… I don't think Derek even thinks we can win anymore."

"And what about the other wolf- Scott?"

"That's who we're going to see," Isaac said. "I have to talk to him, figure out what I'm going to do."

"You mean you might actually leave with them?"

He glanced at me seriously. "If I want to live, I might have to. And you might want to consider it, too."

I shook furiously, full of fear and dread.

I let it sink in that this information, everything Isaac was telling me, well it was something that could mean the difference between me making the choice to live or die.

And that was something I'd never considered before.

Even as I escaped from my father's wrath, deep down it was more of a quality of life decision than a continuity of life decision.

I'd never really felt the weight of the reality that these choices I made could mean my demise. I never considered that I might actually have to choose between fighting and running.

I mean, taking a beating was one thing I could deal with. Because there was always a little light at the end of the tunnel. I always saw an end for me to come out of.

But if I made the choice to stay, and I got cornered into the depths of a tunnel to which there was no other end, well I would suffocate in the darkness.

I didn't ever think that a day might come where there wouldn't be a little light there to look forward to.

Right now, this choice to run, it was my light- possibly my only saving grace.

I didn't speak after Isaac told me about Erica and Boyd, the Argents, and the kanima.

It was all too much to process, and I wondered how he could handle it. How he was dealing with making a life or death decision like that when he had his whole life ahead of him.

_How do you make that decision?_ I asked myself.

But then I knew that the answer to that question was what we were going to find out.

* * *

**As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated. And feel free to contribute ideas! I try to conform this to the story line as much as possible, and I hope that's a positive factor. My apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors, and thank you in advance for any feedback!**


	6. Choices Continuation

**I really should've waited until I had this done to post chapter 5, but I wasn't exactly sure if I'd even do this, so... If you like it, here it is. If you don't, you can ignore it. ;)**

* * *

"I'm staying," Isaac said simply and matter-of-factly, not bothering to elaborate on his revelation.

I looked up from my spot on the concrete, by the air conditioning unit attached to the back of the veterinary clinic.

When we had arrived, I thought it best I let them work things out on their own, leave myself some solitary time to fully process everything I'd just been told.

"I know," I said.

He raised an eyebrow at me, stepping closer as the cool evening air wrapped around the both of us. "How-"

"When you walked out just now," I said, gesturing toward the door, "you looked like someone with your feet planted. Not someone who was about to run." I smiled at him, an odd feeling rustling in the pit of my chest, like a small creature waking from a decade long hibernation, stretching its fists and wrapping them around my heart strings.

I looked away from him, to the forest behind us, trying to suppress the odd sensation.

He made his way over to me, sliding down to take a seat on the cold ground beside me and my heartbeat picked up only enough for me to notice.

I sighed, "What made you change your mind?"

"I'm done being afraid," Isaac said. "All these years I've cowered in the corner, taking a beating and I couldn't ever do anything about it. You have no idea how many times I wished I was strong enough to _do _something, to just… make it stop."

"Oh, I know," I told him. _I've known since I was nine years old…_

"And now I have the power to do something about it. Between Scott, Derek, and I… we can fight this."

"But what if you can't win?" I asked, my eyes suddenly starting to burn.

"Well, then I won't have to live with the feeling that there was something else I could've done…" He breathed.

I looked away from him, shaking my head. I didn't understand, not really. Why did he feel that, after all the years no one bothered to save him, that he had to go off trying to save someone else?

It didn't seem fair, it didn't seem right that he and I, we could suffer silently and then gain back that power only to be left to fight someone else's war.

"Do you know what I thought of that night- what I used as my anchor?" He asked, looking at me with certainty in his eyes. "It was my father," he said, and then I picked up my head to return his gaze.

"I thought about all those years before everything changed, when he was still a dad. I thought about how loved I felt in his presence and how much _I,_" he paused, swallowing hard. "I loved him back."

Isaac leaned in closer to me, attempting to emphasize his point. The little creature in my chest clawed wildly at my insides.

And the nearer he got to me, the more I had to fight to subdue it.

"I'm staying," he said. "And I'm fighting. Because that part of me that loved him, that still does… well that's more important than the part that's afraid."

"I understand," I said. "I can't be as noble as you, Isaac, but I understand. I just don't think I'll ever be able to push my fear away."

For the first time, I considered something. "You know, maybe Erica's right. Maybe I am just scared. Maybe that's all I'll ever be."

Isaac shook his head promptly in response. "No," he told me. "You're more than scared, and you proved that the other night when you got all of us through the full moon without killing each other. Derek didn't do that; you did. And I know that you know exactly what being powerless feels like, and that feeling is never going to go away. But you can move past it."

At that particular moment, saying I felt overwhelmed would've been an understatement. And not even a generous understatement, at that.

I could see, but just barely, where Isaac was coming from.

He was choosing to do the right thing, to move past his fears and help Derek- not because he wanted recognition and not because he felt like being noble, but because that was who Isaac was.

And I guess, I already kind of knew that, because I saw it in his eyes the first night we'd met.

He'd saved me, and now he was going off to try and save his friends. He was going to war at the heels of a team of underdogs because he knew something that I still had yet to grasp.

I studied his face quietly, his tensely set jaw, his pleading expression.

I knew that by telling me all of this, he wasn't trying to explain why _he was staying. Not really. He was trying to ask me to stay, as well._

I stood up, not wanting to draw this out any further than it needed to go.

Frustrated, I willed the creature in my chest to return back to a slumbering solitude, where I could think and not be bombarded by even more feelings I didn't understand.

And it calmed, but only just. And every time I caught his eye, a little surge of hope rushed through me.

But then, it wasn't enough.

"You're going," he said finally. It wasn't a question.

"How do you know?"

"When you were talking just now, about us going to fight, you said 'you', not 'we'. You're going," he uttered the words with a sorrowfully defeated tone. "If you leave now and hurry, you'll be able to make it back before the game."

I nodded, trying not to think about how hard it would be to be on the run again, especially with someone like Erica.

"Goodbye, Isaac," I said, the stinging in my eyes intensifying with each slow, backward step I took.

He hung his head, hands clasped between his knees. "Bye, Charlie," he said softly, not bothering to take a glance as I took my last few steps back.

When I couldn't stand it anymore I pivoted, running as fast and as hard as I could through the woods until my foot caught a protruding root and I dove face first into the ground, catching a mouthful of dirt.

I backed up against a tree trunk, burying my face in my knees as if that would somehow muffle out the sound of my world crashing down around me.

And as the moon rose higher in the sky, my new pack disintegrated; one half making their way to a life on the run and the other marching to bravely face his fate.

I don't think I'd ever felt more uncertain in my entire life than I did in that instant. I shut my eyes tight and let the tears flow freely, knowing that soon I'd really have to make the decision: fight to find absolution or run towards more uncertainty.


	7. A Losing Battle

**Okay, so... In order to keep this as close to the show as possible, I can't fill in the blanks for stuff that hasn't happened. So this chapter is kind of short, but necessary. The flashback in the beginning won't seem relevant now, but it's a foundation for a later chapter. So I hope you all enjoy! **

* * *

_A little girl, no older than six years old, sat stiffly and upright in an uncomfortable metal chair, tapping her feet to the rhythm of her heart: a thrumming muscle which seemed to be trying to hammer its way out of her chest._

_Her light brown locks fell over her face, a few stray waves sticking to her skin as beads of sweat condensed across her pale forehead._

_Hazel eyes danced apprehensively around her father's sterile, white, make-shift laboratory. All around were tables lined with microscopes, scattered Petri dishes, and half empty glove boxes stained with iodine solution and some blue liquid she couldn't identify._

_Beside her stood a rolling cart with a metal tray placed atop it, needles, syringes, and vials lined up side by side in a meticulously parallel manner._

_She looked away, trying to ignore the waves of fear that hit her, fleeting and cold, like a knife in her stomach._

_A child of secrets, she wasn't exactly sure what was going on, just that her father had called her down to his basement lab._

_He'd never done that before. Until that very day, she wasn't even allowed into the pantry that led to the stairwell. And now she'd been sitting down here for what seemed like an eternity, anxiously waiting as her father stood over a table, snapping a pair of blue gloves on._

Latex_, she thought, wrinkling her nose. She'd never been fond of the smell, not ever. It was so overpowering, so sickeningly clean smelling that it made her stomach turn._

_He turned to her, making his way slowly over to where she sat. _

_His curly salt and pepper hair was unkempt as it frayed out from his head, making his appearance even more disturbingly manic._

_She felt her mother's hand tighten its grip on her shoulder, not in the least bit comforting._

_Her father pulled a rubber ribbon out of his coat pocket. It was a shade of lavender, the girl's favorite color. But for some reason that just made her feel more uncomfortable._

_She wriggled in her seat as he wrapped the ribbon around her upper arm and pulled a tight knot, immediately cutting off all circulation to anything below her elbow._

_After a few seconds, the girl could feel her fingers tingle and she wriggled some more._

"_I don't want to do this," she pleaded, pulling her arm back as he popped the cap off of a needle and grabbed her forearm._

"_Charlotte, obey your father," her mother commanded feebly, gripping her daughter's shoulder even tighter as the needle came in contact with her skin._

_The little girl cried out as the metal pierced her skin, trying not to move as a white hot pain shot up her arm._

"_Sit still," her father said. "If you're good and we get this done right the first time, we won't have to do it again. And then it will all be over."_

_But what this little girl didn't know was that when her father said over, he didn't mean it. _

_As he poked and prodded, pulling strands of hair and draining her blood into little vials with multicolored lids, he didn't tell her what any of it was for._

_No, she'd have to find all of that out later._

_For now, all she knew was that things were changing for her. And though she didn't know it yet, she would soon discover that nothing ended that day in her father's laboratory as she jumped up from the chair and made her way unsteadily back up to her room._

_No, nothing ended. Not the pain in her arm, not the fear that had taken root in the pit of her abdomen._

_If anything, she had a strange feeling that she couldn't yet place: the feeling that something -whatever that something may be- had only just begun._

* * *

It took what seemed like an eternity for me to find my way back to the school.

"I really am going to have to get someone to draw me a map of this place," I muttered, trudging my way across a grown up field.

I could see the outcrop of the school, lights shining behind it. I felt my rib twinge a bit as I recognized this as the side opposite the lacrosse field.

I laughed a bit, remembering Isaac's stunned expression as the ball came in contact with my chest.

"Isaac," I said, I thought, I breathed. His face was all I could think of.

_I have to find him_.

In the forest, somewhere between a pit of total despair and the clean air on the outer rim of it, a ladder unfolded itself in front of me and I saw that I had a way out.

Suddenly, I no longer had a choice to make. It was already made for me. And in the back of my mind, I supposed, it always had been.

I thought back to what Isaac said, about doing what's right being more important than being scared and suddenly I understood where he was coming from.

Once I was done being selfishly blinded by my own fears, I realized that I was here in Beacon Hills with him and Derek for a reason, and that was to finally move past the feeling of dread that I'd so long now lived with.

I never considered what I felt, I'd only ever known that I needed to run away from it.

But now was my chance to do something better: to face it.

And who better to face it with than Isaac? So I clenched my fists and made my way across the road to the school, scooting my way cautiously to the field.

The game was very nearly over now, so it must've been more than an hour since I'd changed my mind.

I wasn't exactly sure how lacrosse worked, how many players were involved, or how position rotations were. But I knew that Isaac, with his superhuman speed and agility, would most certainly be out on the field.

So I made my way over to the bleachers, poking my head out from behind them, scanning the field intensely, but seeing nothing of him.

I focused my vision, using all of my binocular like sight to zoom in on faces. It was hard, though, even with my abilities. They all moved so quickly, their helmets masking their faces so that the only identity determining factors were the numbers on their backs.

There were many boys, some tall, some average, but none with Isaac's distinct lanky frame coupled with the supernatural dexterity. I sighed, wondering where the hell else he could possibly be.

I had no idea where else to look. The only other place I'd ever been was the locker room, and there would be no reason for him to be there _during _a game.

It was the only lead I had though, I reasoned with myself. And if anything, I could catch a more recent scent of his to follow until I did find him.

* * *

Walking down the hallway to the locker room, I soon found that I'd got myself into more than I'd bargained for.

I found Scott at the entrance, peeking in quietly as I shuffled up behind him.

He looked at me, beckoning for me to peer in ahead of him.

I looked in only for a moment to see Isaac, crawling on the floor like a half broken bug trying to escape being squashed under the heel of none other than Gerard Argent, who was looming over Isaac with a scary looking sword.

He shifted the blade from palm to palm, toying with it as he gave Isaac some speech about something being poetic.

"We've got to take the other two out," Scott whispered almost inaudibly, referring to the two goons behind Gerard.

I nodded, bracing myself to jump.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Go."

We pounced in silently, and I smashed my fist into the back of one of the men's skull, feeling it bust open under the pressure.

In a surge of adrenaline, I picked him up and rushed out of the locker room with him, dropping him outside the door.

When I looked back in, Isaac was holding onto a sink, smirking as Gerard saw Scott standing behind him in the mirror.

The lights flickered suddenly, and a rush of air blew past me. Then, just like that, Gerard's menacing form was disappeared from the locker room and the hallway.

I looked down to the body laying unconsciously at my feet, pressing my toe into him just to make sure he was alive. I turned him over, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Sorry," I said to him.

Then I realized there was a sudden absence of conversation.

I looked up and Isaac was standing, staring at me as if I were a ghost.

Beside me, Scott looked nervously up at the clock on the wall, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he turned to leave. "The game's almost over," he said. "I need to go."

"I'll be out in a minute," Isaac said, shaking the feeling back into his limbs.

"What happened to you?" I asked, making my way into the locker room to rinse the blood off of my fingers.

"Got sliced by the kanima," he said, rubbing the cut on the back of his neck.

"Ouch," I commented.

"Yeah," he laughed. "But not as ouch as those guys," he beckoned to the two lifeless bodies on the floor. "What do we do with them?" I asked, rolling my sleeves up.

Isaac shrugged. "Leave them for Gerard to deal with later."

"Sounds like a good plan," I said.

And when he didn't say anything else, comment, or make a move to leave the room, I looked up at him.

He was staring at me with a slight grin playing its way across his face, which was red and flustered.

"What made you decide to stay?" Isaac asked, making his way over to the exit of the locker room.

"I'm not sure," I said, looking down at the floor. "I just couldn't go." I looked up at him.

His red jersey was stained with dirt and ripped, sagging around his neck. He looked rough on the outside, but in his eyes a quiet victory danced through the veins of his irises.

He didn't question me further, just nodded his head as if he understood without me having to tell him.

I felt that was becoming a theme between the two of us, the knowing without explanation.

"I need to get back out there to help Scott," he said. "Something's about to happen."

"I'll come with you," I said, stepping over the man at my feet.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea-"

"Neither am I," I told him. "But I'm coming with you."

When we made it back out to the field, most of the crowd in the bleachers had dissipated and those who were left were scattering about in no particular order, like field mice running blindly from a barn fire.

They each rushed in a different direction, some screaming, some panting, some so scared I could practically smell the anxiety emanating from them.

I stayed behind Isaac, waiting as he looked around cautiously.

He beckoned me to look over towards a crowd on the opposite side of the field, at their feet was a body.

"Jackson?" Isaac whispered. "I'm going to go see what's going on. Stay here."

He made his way over to the crowd, pushing through with his wide shoulders.

There was Scott, standing over the limp body of an unfamiliar boy, who must've been the infamous Jackson I'd heard so much about.

I'd expected him to be more menacing. Perhaps rather large, intimidating, maybe a little bit Asian.

But this person laying lifelessly on the grass was just a boy, an innocent looking lacrosse player with sandy brown hair and a tanned complexion.

"He's the one doing all the killing?" I commented quietly, trying not to stare indifferently at the horrid scene.

A woman was bent over him, doing chest compressions as she shouted some directions at a petrified red headed girl who was near the point of hyperventilation.

There were more people and players huddled around, panicking and dialing phones as the coach pushed his way through the crowd shouting that he needed a medic.

I watched, trying to keep still in the hopes that I wouldn't get noticed by any stray onlookers.

My legs began to feel numb so I shifted my weight a bit, backing up slowly towards the fence beside the bleachers.

Just before I made it there, I bumped into someone, turning around immediately.

"Sorry," I said exasperatedly, looking up into the eyes of another boy in a red jersey.

He had dark brown eyes and blonde hair, his face was pulled together in a mask of frustration.

He pulled his phone down from his ear, pressing a button and shoving the device in the pocket of his shorts.

"I'm sorry," I apologized again. "Leave it to me to inadvertently interrupt a phone call."

"No, it's fine," he said in a defeated manner, exhaling. "I was just leaving my dad a voicemail for the one _hundredth _time tonight."

"Was he supposed to be here by now?" I asked when he didn't move away.

He pulled the phone out again, shaking his head as he pulled up a blank text messaging screen

"Yeah. Not like that matters. Because so long as he's in a meeting, nothing else takes precedence," he rambled distractedly, jabbing at the screen of his phone with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry," I told him, feeling bad that he was left alone amidst the tornado of chaos.

"It's fine," he sighed, clicking the phone shut yet again and turning his attention to me. "I'm Ian, by the way. Ian Murphy."

"Nice to meet you," I said, raising my eyebrows. "I'm Charlie. I mean, my name is Charlotte but I go by Charlie."

"Charlie.. That's a nice name," he said. "It fits you."

I smiled unintentionally, blushing at the compliment.

He returned the smile. "You waiting on a ride?"

"No," I said, shuffling my feet.

"Oh yeah, that's right," he said. "You're with Lahey. What, are you like his girlfriend from another school or something? I've never seen you around before now."

"I'm not his girlfriend, but I am from a different school… sort of… I guess," I stuttered, not exactly sure how to answer his question.

"You guess?" He laughed incredulously.

"It's hard to explain," I said finally, shoving my cold hands in the pockets of Isaac's jacket. The leather itself was so cold that even the inside didn't insulate enough to warm my hands.

I sighed, rubbing them together. "Do you know what happened to him?" I asked, looking back across the field as Isaac and Scott stood, straining their neck to get a closer look at something I couldn't see from so far away.

"Who, Jackson?" Ian shook his head. "No, and if I'm being honest with you I really don't care. He's a douche to everyone, including his parents. Yet he drives a Porsche and has taken semi annual cruises ever year since he turned five years old." He coughed a bit, stretching his socks all the way up past his knees. "He's talented, but he's also more ungrateful than all of the ungrateful people I know put together. Whatever someone did to him, he was asking for it. Believe me."

"Sounds like you don't care for him too much," I commented.

"No one does," he replied. "Except for his ex-girlfriend, Lydia."

"_Ex?" _I asked.

"Yeah. He dumped her like two months ago."

"Why?"

"For kicks, I suppose," he said, kneeling down to tie his cleat. "Like I said, he's an ass."

"Ah," I replied, swinging my head around just in time to see Isaac and Scott approach me from the side, a solemn and troubled expression on both of their faces.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Isaac ran his hands through his hair, looking around my shoulder towards Ian and then turning back to face me. "Jackson," Isaac uttered. "He's dead."

I felt my jaw nearly drop as Ian let out a rather loud gasp, clearing his throat immediately afterward.

"What the hell happened?" he asked from behind me.

"They're not sure yet," Isaac said, not taking his eyes off of me. He gazed intensely at me, his eyes vibrating in their sockets. I knew that he wasn't telling me everything, at least not here in front of an unsuspecting teammate.

"And that's not all," Scott said, "Stiles is gone, too."

"Gone?" Ian said, stepping towards him and into my view. "What do you mean gone?"

"I mean gone, disappeared, not here." Scott fumed in aggravation.

"This night just keeps getting weirder," Ian observed, "How does someone just disappear, unnoticed, from a lacrosse match filled with hundreds of people?"

"I don't know," Scott said quietly.

I noticed that Isaac's eyes were still on me, boring into me with that "I really need to talk to you" expression that anyone else would overlook.

I looked back at him, nodding as Ian and Scott got caught up in conversation.

Isaac began walking, pulling my shoulder around gently as he passed.

"I see you made a new friend," he said, un-amused.

"I just bumped into him," I said. "He seemed nice so I talked to him."

"That guy's a tool," Isaac commented, stopping once we got a good few meters away.

I ignored his comment, changing the subject.

"What happened?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to make sure we were out of earshot of the other two who were engaged in a rather severe looking conversation.

Isaac breathed out hard, his posture becoming more tense. "He stabbed himself with his claws and then bled out."

"What- why?" I stammered. "Why would he.. That doesn't even make sense. Is that even possible?"

"I don't know. Scott's mom is a nurse and she got over there right after it happened. She said there was no pulse. He's dead." Isaac said.

"So he killed himself…" I said quietly, feeling a small knot of empathy forming in my chest for the almost child-like face of Jackson, the now deceased kanima. It was sad, really. After all, there's no way he could've helped what he was doing when he killed all of those people.

No, that was someone else's choice. He was just the means.

"Scott thinks it was a sacrifice," Isaac said. "Gerard wanted a good distraction so he could get away with Stiles before someone noticed."

"Stiles?"

"He's on our team. He and Scott have been best friends for years."

My heart sunk, "Makes him the perfect leverage…"

"Yeah," Isaac said.

"Do you think Gerard will kill him?" I asked.

"I think Gerard would kill anything with a heart beat. And if it's going to hurt Scott, then.. Yes. He'll definitely kill him."

"We have to do something," I said. "What does he want? Maybe we can bargain with him."

"I don't think that's possible," Isaac replied, looking at me with fire in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because," he said. "He wants Derek."

* * *

**_On a quick note, I would like to say thank you SO much for all of the reviews. Like always, feedback of any kind is much appreciated and everything I've gotten so far is very motivating. I hope you are all enjoying the story, and also: a special thank you to frangipanilover for the idea of a flashback. I hadn't really considered it until you mentioned it and it was a great idea! I hope I did it justice. _**

**_Much love and lycanthropes, Marissa._**


	8. Meet the Parent

**I want to start this off by saying there will be another chapter up very soon, but this one was already written. I just made a few quick adjustments and figured I'd post it. Enjoy!**

* * *

I'd been told to get back to the house and find Derek, tell him what had happened and that he needed to find the other two just as quickly as he could while they figured out a way to find Stiles before Gerard ripped his throat out.

So I made my way back quickly, breathing harshly as the intensity of the situation made my pulse race with excitement.

Walking down the alleyway, a strong breeze hit me, making the hair on my arms rise. With it, it carried a pungent, metallic odor- the kind that could only be caused by something I had very specifically memorized the scent of: blood.

I shivered, looking around the dimly lit side-street cautiously.

About twenty feet ahead, I spotted something dark on the asphalt, shimmering against a flickering lamp light.

I walked carefully over to it, bending over to survey the puddle.

It was about seven inches in diameter, roughly, because it wasn't pooled in a perfect circle. It looked as if someone had been hit hard on the back of their head, toppled over, and lay unconscious as blood trickled out of their skull.

I could see spatter, but only a little bit.

The eeriness and the lack of a body coupled with the absence of any law enforcement surveying the scene made me feel uncomfortable.

I knew something wasn't right, and my instincts screamed that I needed to get out of there.

So I decided to leave, turning around to make my way back to the main street.

Just as I did, a dark silhouette made its way out of the shadows. My eyes moved cautiously up the form, past the black dress shoes and the equally colorless, pleated gray pants. Though it was thirty degrees outside, I saw no jacket over the hem of the wrinkled, light blue button down shirt.

There was only one person I knew who didn't wear jackets.

I looked up to see him, grinning maliciously at me through the shadows.

"Dad," I uttered the word unintentionally.

"Hello, Charlotte."

* * *

_Andrew Wilder sat at his desk, completely and totally preoccupied with the microscope he held loosely between his rough hands, turning a knob every so often._

_He was so concentrated on the sample of DNA he'd isolated earlier that he failed to notice as his daughter peeked around the corner, one hand grabbing the edge of the unpainted sheetrock wall corner._

_She held her breath, hoping she was far enough away that he wouldn't hear her heartbeat or detect her scent._

_Behind his hunched form, a door opened and out walked a woman with the same medium-brown hair and hazel eyes as the girl, a disturbed look on her face._

_The girl gasped, turning quickly and pressing herself hard against the wall, placing a trembling hand over her mouth to muffle the breaths which came hard and fast as the pace of her heart picked up._

_She quieted, leaning her ear over to hear more clearly the conversation going on between her parents._

"_Andy," the woman said sweetly. "Honey, how much longer is this going to go on? You've barely surfaced for a week now."_

_There was not a sound uttered by the man in his distracted state._

"_Andrew?" _

"_What?" He snapped. _

_The girl heard a 'click' as he turned the backlight to the scope off, the squeak of a chair as he turned to face his wife._

"_This has gone on long enough," the woman said. "As the alpha, you have duties. I can't tend to your responsibilities anymore, Andrew. Three years is far long enough for you to have finished whatever this little science experiment is."_

_The man scoffed. "_Science experiment_?" he growled. "Is that what you think this is?"_

"_Well, isn't it?" His wife replied, confused._

"_No, Elaine. This isn't a science experiment," he said, his footsteps padding across the room. _

_The girl listened intently as her father rustled through a draw, slamming it shut once he'd found what he was looking for._

"_What is that for?" The woman asked, a hint of panic in her voice._

"_Well, it's for Charlie, of course." He said giddily._

"_What do you mean 'it's for Charlie'?" _

_More papers rustled, "Here, look at this." _

_The woman was quiet for a few minutes, papers scraping together in her hand._

_Finally, she drew in a breath. "These," she said. "These look like DNA sequences."_

"_That's because they _are_ DNA sequences. Charlie's, specifically." the man said, pacing around the room, grabbing papers and shifting shelves of vials._

"_What are you doing with these?" The woman asked._

"_I've determined the chromosomes that give werewolves their superhuman abilities. There are two of them in particular," he paused, probably pointing something out to his wife, "that caught my interest. I believe I've figured out a way to enhance them."_

"_And how do you plan on doing that?" she asked skeptically._

"_With this," he said, his sinister tone sending a chill down the girl's spine._

"_A syringe?"_

"_A serum," he said. "It's like gene therapy. I'll inject this into her blood stream and it will bond with specific alleles to alter the chemical make up."_

"_So that's what all this is about? You've spent three years down here, _toiling_ in this dungeon so you could turn our daughter into a _science experiment_?"_

"_IT'S NOT A DAMN SCIENCE EXPERIMENT!" The man raged, slamming something onto a metal table._

_The girl gasped, biting down on her bottom lip and squeezing her eyes._

"_Don't you see?" he said, his argument taking on a desperate appeal. "This will change her. She'll be faster, stronger, better in every way! With this advancement, she'll be a new breed of werewolf. A better breed."_

"_And what if it doesn't work?" Her mother argued, her voice rising. "What if this concoction attaches to the wrong gene? What if it causes her to become malformed, or it inhibits her abilities, or it _kills _her. She's a child, not a lab rat, and-"_

_Suddenly, her mother's voice was replaced by a strained gurgling sound._

_The man breathed in hard. "This _will_ make her stronger," he growled again._

_Her mother whimpered, trying to choke out words that were strangled beneath his iron grip._

"_Let go," she gurgled. "Let go of me."_

_The girl heard a loud 'thump' and a gasp as her mother fell to the ground, panting and gasping for breath._

"_Do you know why I've been working on this continuously for six days straight now, hmmm? Do you have any idea?"_

"_No," the woman rasped. "Why?"_

"_Because tonight is the full moon," he said. "It's the first time she'll change."_

"_You don't know that," she replied, grunting as she pushed herself off of the floor._

"_She exhibits all of the symptoms: her varying iris color and the sporadic rage. Tonight is the night; in a few hours, she will know her full potential."_

_A strained silence fell over the room and the girl tilted her head back, her vision blurred by the fear pumping through her veins. He was going to toy with the most critical parts of her being, try to alter them. All she heard was her mothers words. _

What if it kills her?

_What _if _it kills me? The girl thought, trying to fight back the urge to run. She couldn't, not now. Not when it was so silent and any careless movement could make the noise that got her caught._

"_I don't condone this," Elaine said, her tone saturated with anger._

"_Well," he said simply. "There's nothing you can do about it."_

_As the discussion came to an end, an overwhelming panic overcame the girl. She picked up her feet, heavy as lead on a floor of magnets, and forced herself to run._

_She tripped on a stair on her way out, sucking in air as she realized there was no way she couldn't have been heard._

"_Who's there?" She heard her father's voice. Then he took in one long breath and chuckled a bit. "Charlie, my dear. You're just in time."_

_She gathered herself up, propelling herself up the stairs, jumping them four at a time in an adrenaline-fueled race for her life._

_In just a few seconds, she heard her father's heavy footfalls as he closed in behind her, calling out to her words that seemed incoherent as her heartbeat pounded in her ears._

"_No," she screamed as he commanded her to halt. _

_The house was divided into two separate wings, and the right had a different basement: one with a window she could easily crawl out of._

_She twisted and turned corners as fast as they presented themselves, finally propelling herself through another empty pantry and down the stairs to the pitch-black room._

_As fast as her eyes could adjust, her father's steps were within earshot again, making it hard for her to focus on finding the window._

_Finally, she gave up, realizing that she wouldn't have time to escape._

_She threw herself beneath the stairs, partially concealing herself behind a few empty boxes piled up against the wall, and breathed in slowly, trying to calm her heart rate._

"_Charlotte," her father called sternly. "I know you're down here. No use in hiding."_

_She bit down on her tongue so hard it bled. She could feel the fangs rip through her gums, and she swallowed back a scream._

_Her father was right. She was changing._

_He looked slowly around the darkness, scanning the room with his malicious red eyes._

_His gaze lingered momentarily on the window before he finally finished his survey._

_He sighed, hands submerged in his lab coat pockets. "I'll find you," he muttered, and just before he turned to take the first step back up the stairs, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye._

"_Ah," he said_._ As she watched his large body come towards her slowly, a sinister grin spread across his tight, thin lips, she knew then that this was the last time she'd ever feel any innocence._

"_No," she said, backing herself farther against a wall. "No, please don't" _

"_Just trust me, sweet heart," he said. "This will make you so much stronger." _

_And he grabbed her, crushing the breath out of her as she struggled against him, running but getting nowhere._

_She caught sight of the window, just feet away. It was her escape, her refuge._

_Outside that small window of hope was a black sky and the moon, shimmering in its full form. It looked so close; close enough, even, that if she were to reach out past that glass pane, her hands would find their way to that small circle in the sky._

_She kept her eyes on it intently, trying to ignore the pain in her chest as her father's arms crushed her._

_She watched the white of the rock, imagining that if she could just make it outside of that window, she could be free from this impending hell._

_But like freedom, that moon was just another illusion, another escape that lay so far beyond her reach._

_As the realization sunk in that she wouldn't escape, that the moon was too far and the window was too far, along with her fight she felt the needle fall, finding its way through her flesh._

_And then, the little girl, lost under the ridicule of the moon, screamed._

* * *

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, trying not to sound as frightened as I was. "What do you want?"

"Well, I've come to take you home," he said, stepping closer to me, "back to the pack."

"This is my home now," I said. "And I have a new pack. One that doesn't find it necessary to use me as a chew toy."

My father nodded his head, a condescending smile plastering itself across his face. "Interesting," he said, taking slow, menacing steps toward me. "And where would that pack be now? You wouldn't be lying to me...would you now, Charlie?"

"I'm alone," I told him. "They won't be here any time soon."

"Good, good, good," he said with a grumble in the back of his throat. "Because I'd hate to have to call in reinforcements."

I shivered, knowing that if my dad called in even a third of his total pack, Derek wouldn't stand a chance against them.

"Leave them out of this," I said. "They were just being nice, taking me in. They're not a threat."

"See, I'd love to believe you. But honestly my dear, I don't think I can anymore," he said. "_So_ if you come with me now and give me no more trouble, they'll be safe."

I knew by the tone of his voice that this was a trick, another lie that he thought was oh so clever. He wore his best 'trust me, I'm here to help' demeanor, but I'd known him long enough and been fooled so many times that I didn't buy into his scheme in the least but.

"I don't believe you," I said, tilting my head to the side a bit.

His expression changed, shedding the calm arch in exchange for a bewildered rage.

I saw the red in his eyes flicker and gasped a bit, knowing that with the fire came the burn. And my father's fire was growing quickly.

"And nor I, you," he said. "Do you really think I'd buy for a minute that you've already found someone else to take you in? In fact, who would? You're half a wolf, you're damaged, you're no one. What alpha in his right mind would take you in?"

"You did this to me," I said. "_You_ made me what I am. I wasn't born malformed."

"No," he said. "You were just born _weak_!" His fangs released themselves steadily as he shouted, the dark pools of his eyes now red like streams of lava.

He raised his hands, grinning as the two inch long claws revealed themselves, fully extended and ready to rip my throat out.

"Is that why you did what you did?" I asked, backing up as he inched toward me, trying to distract him long enough for someone, _anyone _to find me.

I continued, "All the shots, the beatings, and throwing me into pins to be torn apart. Was that your way of transforming me from the weakling I was at birth?"

"You had potential," he said angrily. "I saw it, and I still do."

"I had plenty more before you started experimenting on me!" I raged, ripping a section of drain pipe off the side of the building behind me and hurling it at his head.

He caught it just before it clipped his nose, an angry snort escaping his snout.

His face was now contorted, his ears clipped into points and his beard and sideburns doubled as his head shifted into wolf form.

He stopped walking, twisting the metal into a bar before launching himself at me.

I felt a sharp, stinging pain in my throat as he sandwiched the bar in the crook beneath my chin, using it to push me up the side of the building.

My eyes were just an inch above his, my feet dangling as I struggled in his iron grip.

"You," he said, laughing manically. "_You_ are so ungrateful." His voice was masked by a deep rumble, echoing in his throat as his muscles swelled beneath his shirt.

I snarled at him, biting and scratching, but to no avail.

"All the years I spent, the sleepless nights in that damned lab, working so hard for so little. And all because of _you! _Because I wanted to give you powers like no other! And then you run off," his anger flared with emphasis on each nasty syllable. "You disrespect me, _betray _me in the worst way possible, and yet I come for you. I _graciously _offer to take you back."

I kicked my feet, my vision slowly caving in, black edges conforming around everything in my view.

"I could've just killed you," he said. "But I didn't. And even now, after ALL OF THIS, you don't see that everything I've done, and worked for… it's all been for _your _benefit."

"No," I said. _It's been for yours_, I wanted to say._ So that you would have no one to fight when it came my time to be alpha._

But I couldn't speak anymore. The last bits of oxygen in my lungs were long gone, and it was all I could do just to stay conscious.

I felt my claws and fangs retract as the spots of black in my vision all formed together, the coolness of the night enveloping me like a blanket.

I don't remember anything after that. There was only the feeling of a comfortably cool air falling over me as I plunged into the deep, dark abyss of an unfamiliar realm.

It was like a dream, very specifically the one where I was able to breathe underwater with no apparatus. The kind of dream where I just lay there, staring up through the glassy surface at the sun.

Except there was no sun; there was only infinite, impenetrable darkness. And I was floating through the dark water, unable to even will myself to move.

And, serenely, a part of me thought, Maybe I don't want to.

* * *

"Charlotte," a voice called out my name.

I'd heard that voice before, but in my present state, couldn't place it. I just knew it was warm and inviting: like a hot shower on a cold, brutal winter night; like a sweet cup of coffee in the morning; or the sun warming my shoulders at the first break of Spring.

I was drawn to the voice as it echoed through the water, compelling me to move my way slowly through the placid darkness.

I felt my eyelids flutter, the water around me swelling up and then surging away, white lights hitting my face painfully.

"Hello, Charlotte. Can you hear me?" said the voice.

And as I came to, pulling my hand up to shield my face, I recognized the voice but only vaguely.

Not feeling any immediate threat in my presence, I sighed internally, completely relieved that I was back somewhere safe with someone I could trust.

Then, suddenly and harshly, a surge of panic hit me. "My father-" I said, desperately trying to force my eyes to interpret the lights and shapes around me into recognizable forms.

"My father," I repeated hoarsely. "He's here, he's still out there."

"Your father's been taken care of," soothed the voice. "Now calm down and close your eyes."

"I'll go shut the lights off," said the man's voice, deep and soothing.

I felt a gentle hand tug my fingers away from my face, laying them at my side. "Give yourself a minute," he said, and I knew what he meant so I obeyed him, relaxing my hands.

I loosened my tense muscles, falling back onto whatever I was laying on, closing my eyes just as the brightness in the room became bearable.

I felt a hand with large fingers wrap around my wrist, pressing down on the joint.

"Pulse is good," he muttered, then his fingers found their way up to my throat.

He tugged at something I could only imagine was gauze as the tape keeping it down pulled at my skin uncomfortably. "This isn't healing quite as fast as it should," he said, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Charlotte," The man addressed me, "my name is Doctor Deaton. I run the Beacon Hills veterinary clinic."

I remembered where I'd heard his voice now. It had been earlier when Isaac and I had visited the clinic. He'd greeted Isaac that morning, and I'd caught his tone a few times through the concrete of the building's wall.

I opened my eyes quietly, studying his face as everything in the dark room became clearer.

His skin was a dark yellow color, and he had a few facial features that were slightly Native American.

His head was shaved, and he had a small tuft of hair on his chin and top lip. He was absent of any other facial hair aside from his brows, which were pulled together as he flashed a light in my pupils.

"Your ocular reflexes are good," he said, clipping the light-pen back into his breast pocket.

"Do you remember anything about what happened?" he asked.

He smelled like pine needles and, ugh, I wrinkled my nose- latex.

I rubbed my eyes, pulling myself into a sitting position on the cold metal operating table.

"I remember everything," I said quietly, my gaze wandering around the room. "Except for how I got here."

Dr. Deaton smiled, handing me an already opened bottle of water.

"Thank you," I said, taking the bottle from his hands and gulping down the cool liquid greedily. It made the soreness in my throat subdued, but only a little bit.

"No problem," said the doctor.

I looked around the room, a lack of people making my heartbeat accelerate. I began to feel the nervousness resurface.

"Wh-where is everyone? Isaac, Derek?"

"Relax," Dr. Deaton said. "Your pack is otherwise occupied at the moment. But you don't need to worry about them. Here," he handed me a small white pill.

I flipped it over in my palm, studying it.

"It's just a slight muscle relaxer we give to animals during heartworm treatments. It'll work the same on you, just not as strongly. It'll help with the soreness in your throat."

I tossed it back in my mouth, chugging a cup of water so I wouldn't have to taste it.

I choked, coughing violently as the pill scraped my esophagus while it made its way down.

I pulled my hand away from my mouth, a bit of blood trickling down my fingers.

"The claws pierced your trachea," Said Dr. Deaton, his back to me as he rummaged through some drawers. "It'll be painful to swallow for a good few days at least, until you heal. Do you have any idea when that might be?"

I shook my head, my fingers massaging the bottom of my throat. "It's always a guessing game," I told him honestly, feeling a bit nauseas.

"Well, you can stay here as long as you need to. And I have every type of pain killer known to mammal, incase you get yourself into anymore trouble." He grinned at me harmlessly.

"Yeah, trouble seems to be a theme with me.."

"It seems to be thematic for every wolf in this town," he chuckled. "But, it comes with the territory I suppose."

"How do you know so much about the wolves?" I asked, suddenly realizing that this veterinarian was aware of what I was.

"Let's just say I've been dealing with your kind for a long time."

"Healing them?"

"That," he nodded. "And sheltering them, giving them advice, match making," he trailed off.

I raised an eyebrow once he turned around.

"The last one was a joke," he assured me.

I shook my head, closing my eyes to moonlight shining in through the window.

"The moon," the doctor muttered. "It hurts you."

"No," I said, opening my eyes to gaze at the silvery white orb filling the window above me. "No, it just brings back bad memories."

* * *

**To those of you wondering if there will be a romance between Charlie and Isaac:  
Hmm... Good question. I've actually asked myself the same thing numerous times. And, quite frankly, I've spent hours writing and _deleting_ multiple scenarios where the do, for lack of a better phrase, 'hook up'.**

**I'm still having trouble developing that, and being that I'm personally lacking in the romance department myself.. it'll be hard for me to create that chemistry. But I'm definitely up for the challenge. So if there is a deep interest, I will work on it. And please feel free to submit any ideas. I will definitely try to incorporate them. They may even seriously inspire me.****  
**

**So I'll end this by promising a heart to heart between my two main characters very soon. And, as usual, thank you so much for reviews, views, follows, favorites, and all of that lovely stuff. It's all greatly appreciated! **

**Much love and lycanthropes, Marissa**


	9. Alone

**I'm nowhere near happy with this chapter. Maybe it's just me, but I feel like it's missing something... Anyway, here it is. Maybe, if I have some great epiphany, I'll go back in and change it. But I hope it's still a little enjoyable!**

* * *

She was a husky puppy, with thick white fur and blue eyes.

Her tongue dangled carelessly out of the side of her mouth, flopping around as she twisted and turned on her back, trying to find precisely the most comfortable degree of bend in her spine.

"Ah, Charlotte," Dr. Deaton greeted me. "You're just in time to help with a patient."

I looked over at the seemingly happy little puppy, wondering what on earth could be wrong with her.

Dr. Deaton ran his big fingers through her fur, listening to her heart and checking for any bone deformities.

I noticed two things, minor things, as he did his assessment: the dog would cry out; once when he pressed his stethoscope to the right side of her chest and the other time when he would check for movement in her joints.

She would recoil when her hind leg was touched.

I would wince, too, trying to ignore the twinge in my own chest.

"What happened to her?" I asked, walking over toward her and placing a hand on her tiny head.

"She was thrown out of a moving vehicle," Dr. Deaton replied solemnly, pulling something out of his coat pocket.

Her floppy tongue found its way up to my fingers, licking over them swiftly.

I giggled unintentionally, pulling my hand away to look at her now more visible injuries.

There were open wounds, little places where the fur had been torn from her body leaving patches of cherry red skin, probably road burn.

Dr. Deaton held the back of her neck, pushing a small syringe with a clear liquid through her skin.

Almost immediately, she ceased movement, her tongue hanging out even further as her crystal blue little eyes were covered by their lids.

"We're going to have to shave the wounds and wash them so we can get a better idea of how severe they are," he said.

I shook my head, looking up at him. "Who would do something like this?"

"Someone who has a hard time accepting affection, apparently," he smiled, patting the dog's head once more before going down the hall to his supply closet to collect some shears.

When he returned, he continued. "I see things like this all the time: seemingly affectionate and behaviorally sound animals thrown out on the side of the road; into ditches; or, like in this sweet little girl's case, dumped on my doorstep."

I felt a little angry initially, just trying to wrap my head around what scenario on earth would make anyone throw something so beautiful and innocent out like a piece of garbage to rot.

"At least they cared enough to bring her here," I said sarcastically.

"It never ceases to amaze me what people do to their animals, Charlotte. And I don't think it ever will. But," he said, handing me a pair of gloves to snap on, "what I've always found more remarkable is the animals' ability to forgive and trust again. Even after being abandoned or hurt by those whom they loved the most."

I tried my best after that to contain the overwhelming flood of hurt that rose like a wave in the back of my throat, threatening to spill over every time I opened my mouth or blinked away the stinging light above us.

I bit through my tongue during the procedure, not saying a word as Dr. Deaton showed my how to cleanse wounds and pack the deeper ones with gauze.

At first, it was easy to keep my emotions at bay. Looking at these superficial skin wounds, in the back of my mind I could chock it up to rough play, pretend that someone hadn't actually done something so horrible to this little dog.

But when Dr. Deaton finished dressing the burns and moved to her back leg, which was pretty obviously broken, well that's what became too much for me.

"Ah," he said disappointedly, "looks like it's fractured in several different places. I would assume her chest is, too. We're going to have to make a splint."

"Is it going to hurt her?" I asked, angry tears forming in the back of my eyes.

"It'll be excruciating the first couple of days, but it has to be done."

Not aware exactly of what I was doing, I tore my gloves off and threw them on the floor.

"Charlotte?" The doctor said, a concerned look on his face.

"I can't," I said. "I can't do this."

And I wasn't sure if I was talking about putting that poor puppy through more pain or just _doing_ in general.

It hurt.

It hurt too much to know that that dog's life was like some sick metaphor to my own: loving and trusting someone only to be killed by them slowly, with no choice but to wander into someone else's hands and hope that they could take care of me because I was too weak to take care of myself.

I remembered my father's words clearly, echoing in my head with ever backwards step I made toward the door.

_You're half a wolf, you're damaged, you're no one. _

And he was right. Like that puppy, I was damaged. And I was no one.

And I was dispensable, like a piece of garbage, or a broken toy, or a…. a failed science experiment.

I'd spent all these years looking out a window just to escape and realize that I never really would be completely liberated from what my father had done to me.

I stood there, wondering how long it would be until these people who had taken me in would realize just how abundantly puny I was, how long it would be until they decided to throw _me_ out.

I heard the doctor call my name, watched as he made his way over to me in what seemed to be in slow motion.

I jumped, pivoting on my heels and out of the exam room door.

Blindly, I tore my way down the hallway, needing to escape, to run away from all of this and not feel anymore.

I broke through the front doors only to run into something else, a soft wall of warmth.

I tried to go around it, to pull myself away, but something was holding me, restraining me.

I looked up through blinding tears to see Isaac standing in front of me.

"Whoa," he said as I fought him. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer him. "I need to go," I said, pleading for him to release me so I could just leave the pain of this place and all the potential disappointment it held for me.

I tore at his arms which were binding me to his chest, pushing and pulling and sobbing until I thought I might just pass out from exertion.

"Just let me go," I said finally, looking up at him with rage.

He didn't loosen his grip. "I can't," he said. "Not like this."

Furiously, like a child about throw a tantrum, I sunk to my knees.

But instead of kicking and screaming, I just buried my head in my arms, trying to ignore the searing pain in my throat as I sat on the pavement all doubled over and sobbing.

Distantly, I felt a gentle hand find its way to my back, soothing me with soft circles traced across my ribs.

"What happened to her?" Isaac asked as he lay me back on the cold examination table.

Dr. Deaton didn't answer him.

"I think it's best _she_ tell you that," he said.

Isaac looked over to me, and presently I turned onto my side, facing away from the both of them, attempting to close my ears to their chatter.

After a few minutes of silence, Dr. Deaton excused himself, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

I heard a chair behind me scratch the floor as Isaac took a seat, tapping his toes as he waited for me to say something.

When I didn't, he felt it his place to try yet again to fish answers out of me.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice tired.

I sighed, sitting up slowly and turning to him.

I bowed my head, fingers carefully tugging at the bandaging over my neck, peeling back the tape and gauze to expose the wound on my neck.

The cold air hit it and it stung unbelievably, but I bit back a gasp, too tired to acknowledge the pain.

Isaac stood up, making his way over to me as I lifted my head.

He bent forward, eyes studying the wound with a befuddled expression.

"What.." he began, losing his words as he looked deeper into my flesh.

I covered it back up, unable to bear the cold of the air on my raw flesh any longer.

"My father found me," I said quietly, looking away from him towards the metal counters to the right of me.

"Charlie, I'm so-"

"Don't apologize," I said, catching his guilty gaze. "It was my own fault. I knew he'd find me."

Again, I averted me gaze, "It was stupid of me to believe any different."

"And it was even stupider of me to send you alone," he told me, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"If you would've been there, he would've killed you." I said, the thought oddly chilling me to the core.

"And because I wasn't there, he almost killed _you_," Isaac said, bending over the table beside me, arms crossed over the shiny surface.

"I stay to help and just end up almost getting myself and someone else killed."

"Yourself?" I asked, confused.

Isaac's placid expression turned to a frown as he explained, "Scott's girlfriend shot an arrow at my chest… and stabbed me about a dozen times."

He looked up at me, knowing that would only confuse me further, "It's a long story."

"Ah," I replied, understanding that right now neither one of us were up for the chronicles of any more near-death experiences.

He stood up, running his fingers through his hair and pacing the floor as I swung my legs over the table slightly, my feet a good few inches above the ground.

"I need to leave, Isaac," I said finally, breaking the silence.

He stopped in front of me, the profile of his face dark above the reach of the hanging light.

"Why do you think that?" he asked, his voice flat.

"I came here to escape my problems and just ended up bringing all of them with me," I said simply. "There's nothing here that I can offer to anyone… My father made me realize that."

_You're damaged, you're no one._

Isaac turned to me, catching my gaze.

He shook his head slightly, conviction dripping off of his words. "Your father… Charlie, your father tried to kill you. I don't know the man, but I think that being capable of murdering your own child tells enough. Actions like that," he said. "They tend to discredit one's opinion _just_ a little bit."

When I didn't reply, he continued.

"Do you really think Derek could've handled all of us the other night during the full moon if it weren't for you?"

I looked up at him, studying his face.

"Because I don't think he could've."

"You don't know that."

"I think I do," he said. "Because I know that I couldn't have handled myself. And if I would've broken loose, and Boyd would've had time to snap just one more restraint…"

"But that didn't happen," I said.

"And that's my point," he replied, resting one long arm on either side of me. "You do have something to offer, Charlie. Even if you don't see it and Derek won't admit it, it's there."

I shook my head, looking back down at my lap. "What if it's not enough?"

Isaac exhaled, frustrated, trying to come up with a way to explain his point so that I could understand what he was trying to say to me. But I just couldn't quite grasp it, why he was trying so hard to make me decide to stay.

I could help, maybe, but only a little bit. And what would happen after Isaac learned to control the wolf all by himself?

With Boyd and Erica gone and no one left to need me, what good would I be, really?

Like my father had told me, I was just half a wolf, no use to any alpha and the weak link of a pack.

"I'm just meant to do things alone," I said quietly, not even meaning to let the words escape my mind.

"Then what do you think compelled you to find another pack?" Isaac replied thoughtfully, determined not to let go of the subject until I'd changed my mind.

"Instinct," I said. "It was just instinct.."

"And what made you stay, hmm? When you had the chance to run?"

"I-," I couldn't answer. Even as I looked into his eyes and saw the frustration, I still couldn't find the words to make him understand.

And for the first time, I thought, maybe it was because they just weren't there.

"Yesterday, when we came here and I found Scott, a part of me came here just to tell him that I was going to leave. But then he said something," Isaac leaned a little closer, keeping his eyes on me as he recounted. "He said that he wasn't going to leave because he had too many people here who needed him. And I told him that I was lucky, because I didn't have someone holding me here like that. I didn't have anyone."

He paused for a moment, waiting to see if I had something to say to that.

When I didn't, he continued.

"But then I walked outside and I saw you, and I thought back to the night you found us, cold and alone and looking for somewhere to belong. It reminded me of when I was just like that, looking for somewhere that I belonged. And up until last night… I still wasn't sure I'd found that place."

He looked at me, softening his expression as I listened. "My point is, Derek found me. And you found us. And it was for a reason, not just by chance. Because we were alone, all of us. And I know you think that whatever your father did to you has made you destined to _stay_ alone, but I disagree."

He grabbed the side of my face, pulling it towards him so that he knew I was hearing what he had to say.

"Do you feel alone anymore, Charlie? Honestly," he said. "Right now, do you feel like you're all that you have to count on?"

And looking into his eyes, caring as they had been from the start, there was no way I could say yes.

So I shook my head, a tear finding its way down my face.

He smiled, "Neither do I."

I smiled in return, the anger in the back of my mind diminishing almost instantly as Isaac finished his lecture.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around him, freezing instantly when I realized what I was doing.

Momentarily, I felt as Isaac hesitated as well.

Both of us, I supposed, weren't exactly accustomed to physical contact that didn't end in bruises. And for this reason, I was even more surprised when he hugged me back.

After a moment, he pulled away and spoke.

"So does this mean you're going to stay or did you just do that to shut me up?"

"Both," I replied, and both of us chuckled a bit at my response.

"Oh, look at that," said a condescending voice from the doorway. "Puppy love. How cute."

I looked over to see the man I'd met the other night, Peter, watching us from the entryway.

"What do you think, Derek? Isn't it cute?"

Derek came up behind the man and made his way into the room, purposefully shoving into Peter on his way.

"Actually, I find it kind of nauseating," Derek said, walking over to me.

I smiled a bit, pleasantly taken aback at how quickly and drastically the ambience in the room had shifted.

"Charlie," Derek addressed me, beckoning towards the man in the doorway. "This is my uncle Peter, the psychopathic ex-alpha who tried to slaughter the whole town and turn the _entire_ high school student body into a pack of mythological creatures."

"And as you can see, that last part runs in the family," Peter said, studying Isaac as he made his way over to me. "I believe we've met before, but it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance nonetheless."

He extended a hand and I shook it briefly. "Uh, you too," I said, unable to find another word to reply with.

"So," Peter said, "since the gang's all here, I guess we should get down to business; try to discuss how we're going to handle the situation at hand."

"What do you mean, I thought Jackson was dead," I commented.

"Not exactly," Isaac said. "But he's no longer the problem."

I looked at him with exasperation, wondering how the hell I'd fallen so far behind in just a few hours.

He shrugged his shoulders at me. "I told you it was a long story."

"One which we'll discuss when we get to a more secluded location," Derek said sternly.

"Like where?" Isaac said. "The train station's a bust, and they know we've been staying at your house. Here seems as good a place as any."

"They? Who is 'they'?" I asked.

"An alpha pack," Derek replied shortly.

"A-a.. _what?" _I said, sincerely hoping I'd heard him wrong.

"An alpha pack. It's a pack comprised completely of-"

"No, I know what an alpha pack is," I cut Peter off. "But why would they come here, to Derek? I mean, that doesn't just happen. They have to have a reason."

"We know," Derek said. "And that's what we're going to find out."

"How?"

"That is precisely what we need to discuss," Peter said, toying with some surgical instrument he'd found laying about.

"Not here," said another voice. Dr. Deaton.

I'd all but forgotten he was there.

"Rush hour is about to hit and Scott and I are going to need this exam room to administer treatments. So, if you'd all please, just," he waved for us to exit the room.

Quietly, the three men exited the room, making their way outside to the waiting car. Before I exited, though, Dr. Deaton stopped me.

"Someone wants to tell you goodbye," he said, smiling at me.

I followed him back down the hallway, into a room where the little puppy I'd helped treat earlier was sitting on a fluffy dog bed, wagging her tail at me.

I bent down and scratched her between her ears.

"You look much better," I said to her.

"You'd did a good job cleaning her up," the doctor said to me. "I wouldn't mind your help every once in a while, if you ever feel up to it."

"That sounds like it'd be nice," I told him honestly, feeling ten times better than I had an hour ago. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Dr. Deaton."

"Any time," he said. "Come back to see us."

"I will," I said. "Just hopefully not as a patient."

I made my way out to the car and scooted into the backseat beside Isaac, whose long legs were contorted to fit in the small space the Camaro allotted for leg room.

"Ready?" Derek asked, looking back at us before putting his sunglasses on.

"Let's go," Isaac replied, tapping his fingers on the door.

* * *

**As always, thank everyone for the input and support. I really appreciate the advice given, and it did influence the events of this chapter immensely.**

**I don't know when the next chapter will be, considering I'm a little bummed about this season being over and school starts back Monday. But I will continue this, and again thank you everybody!**

**Much love and Isaac Lahey(because, let's face it... who doesn't want some Isaac?), Marissa**


	10. Hide and Seek

**First off, I wanted to say I am aware of how long it's been since I last updated this story, and I sincerely apologize. I didn't forget about it. I switched to a new school this year and I've just been trying to adjust to the culture shock and the teachers' homework expectations- you know, all that good stuff. Anyway, this is a short chapter just to see if there's still any interest in this story. If it gets a response, I'll go from there :) **

* * *

The waitress set four cups of steaming coffee down on the table in front of us, dispersing them accordingly- the whole time, without taking her eyes off of Isaac, who was staring at something outside of the window, completely unnoticing of her gaze.

With an aggravated sigh, she flipped her notepad out and pulled the pen from behind her ear.

"Have you all decided what you'd like?" She asked, tapping her foot on the dirty tiles.

I could hear the grains of dirt grinding into the floor beneath her toes.

Peter, who I'd somehow gotten stuck in the corner of the booth beside, leaned over towards the waitress casually, "Actually, I did see something I might like to try; but, unfortunately, it's not on the menu."

She bit her bottom lip, blushing as she strained out a flirtatious giggle.

I rolled my eyes, turning my attention instead to the exterior of the glass that separated us from the chilly afternoon air.

As I sat, taking in the scenery of the busy downtown street, it didn't take long for me to notice what Isaac was staring at.

Across the street from the diner was a little corner shop- the kind with trinkets, over the counter headache medication, and overpriced greeting cards. Standing to the right of the open doorway were two exceptionally large men in matching black leather jackets. They looked like cadets lined up for roll call: arms bent to meet behind their backs, feet shoulder-width apart, and chins tilted slightly back with jaws clenched tight. Their eyes moved around diligently, scanning their surroundings with scrutiny.

One had light brown skin and a shaved head while the other was fair of complexion with dirty blonde waves stopping just above his eyebrows.

Their stoic, still demeanors contrasted the general ambience released from the outside: scattered, busy, and lively.

I felt something brush my knee and turned to see Isaac, wiping his hand across his neck with a purposeful sweep.

He glanced at me and nodded, turning his attention back to the men across the street from us.

I fixed my gaze on them, blurring any other distracting images, and focused on their necks.

From afar, with my bad -for a wolf- vision, I could see the faint outcrop of a tattoo on each of their necks, equal in size, shape, and dark color.

Behind me, I could hear Peter's smooth voice still hitting on the waitress, so I turned my head slightly and spoke.

"Is that-" I began quietly, but Isaac affirmed my suspicion with another tap to my knee.

The mark of the alphas.

I understood his need to be as discreet as possible. If we were to make any sudden, panicky or unwarranted movement, it could tip them off.

So I just pulled my head back down to rest in my palm, flipping through the menu casually while Isaac did the same, not completely letting the men out of his peripheral vision.

"And you two?" The waitress said, beckoning to Isaac and myself. "Have either of you decided what you want?"

She turned to me first and I looked to Isaac, hoping he'd go on and make his order to give me time to pick something, anything off of the menu. I hadn't ordered at a restaurant since I could remember; my father always chose for me.

But now, with the freedom to decide what I wanted for my own meal, I couldn't speak.

Without a thought, she turned her full attention back to Isaac. "Do you know what you'd like, sir?"

She smiled at him sweetly.

_Sir_, I mocked her in my head, trying to keep my expression blank.

"Yeah," he replied, not really making eye contact with her. He fidgeted a little bit, trying to regain his focus, "I'll take the number two with fries. And uh," he looked over to me, "we'll split it. I'm not very hungry."

"Yeah, me either," I agreed.

His eyes were sliding back over toward the window, directing me.

I turned back slightly, realizing that the dark figures of the men had moved to the edge of the curb, still as marble, facing directly towards us.

I turned to Derek with a quick smile, trying and failing to pretend to commence small talk.

"Don't look around when I tell you this," I said, "but I think we need to leave."

"Like, now." Isaac added, rearranging the salt and pepper shakers.

"They're here," Derek remarked, more a statement than a question.

I nodded, sipping at the water in the red plastic cup I was spinning around with my nails.

"That's a shame," remarked Peter. "I was just beginning to have a little fun."

"Well you'll have plenty of time for fun if they catch us," Derek said. He pulled his wallet out, flipping a few dollar bills down onto the table. "Come on, time to go."

And without hesitation, he hopped out of the booth, Isaac following, then Peter, and then myself.

We made our way to the hallway leading to the bathroom, a big red 'exit' sign hanging in front of the door at the very back.

"Isaac. Charlie," Derek said, turning to face us, "you two go out the bathroom windows. If they're out there, it'll be easier to catch us if we're in a pack. It's better that we stay separated."

"Where do we go?" Isaac asked, glancing at me and then back to Derek.

"We'll need to meet up somewhere they'd never expect," I offered. "Somewhere not wreaking of wolves."

Peter stood silently, watching as we muttered amongst ourselves.

"The school," Derek said. "There are a thousand kids that walk that hall daily, it's the only place our scent won't be completely evident."

Isaac nodded.

"We'll run the perimeter of the block," he directed. "No short cuts, no clear paths, and no stopping until you get there. And if you get caught, you're on your own until I get a ransom note. We clear?"

We nodded in unison.

"Good," Derek said, then pointed at the restroom doors. "Now go."

As if we were competing in an obstacle course race, Isaac and I let off the brakes, pressing our accelerators to the max, hurtling ourselves through the doors.

I barely bothered to turn around to see the back of Derek's t-shirt as he and Peter raced the other way.

When I got into the bathroom, I locked the door, shrugging off my jacket and tying it tightly around my waste. I hopped onto the tank of the toilet, prying the grimy window open with my claws.

It took about a minute of prodding, wiggling, and coaxing to get the pane to slide up enough that I could slip out, rolling a somersault onto the ground below.

I looked over to see Isaac, landing about the same time I had.

He looked over at me with a sly grin and took off, a wind of energy wiping past me as he disappeared into the web of streets behind the diner.

He went right and I went straight, assuming Derek and Peter had turned left.

Seeing the outcrop of trees about a half mile away on my path, I picked up speed, sprinting until I met the forest edge. I slowed, trying to obey Derek's command not to stop.

The raw skin on my neck burned, so I pulled the jacket back on, zipping it up to the neck for what little relief it could offer.

Panting, I made my way south, trying to remember exactly where the school was.

When I made it to a familiar strip of road, which I recognized as the back way to the school, I turned right onto it, pausing once I saw the silhouette of the high school across the field.

Not wanting to take the chance of being seen, I ducked into the trees adjacent to the field, running down the perimeter as I looked around carefully, listening for any approaching sounds. Hearing none, I slowed my sprint to a semi-jog, wanting eagerly to make it to the "safety" of the convening point.

I made it to the rear corner of the school, behind the lacrosse field, scanning the campus for any movement.

When I didn't see anything, I turned back to the forest and fell against a tree trunk, doubling over to catch my breath.

All of the sudden, I felt the hair on my neck prickle, alerting me to something in close proximity.

And just as soon as I began to stand, I felt a finger touch my shoulder.

I jumped, gasping as I turned to see an unexpectedly familiar face looking at me with a perplexing stare.

"Ian?" I said his name, his presence baffling and seemingly surreal.

"Yeah," he said. "It's.. Charlie, right?"

I nodded.

"You practicing for the five-k or something?" He asked.

"No, I just- um," I stopped, brushing the shrubbery off my face, deciding to redirect the question. "What are you doing out here?"

He held a lacrosse stick up, "Practicing for try outs. I'm planning on making first line next year."

My mouth formed the response, "O", but I couldn't make the sound come out as I struggled to level my breathing.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "You look a little, uh, _frazzled_." He said the word delicately, his eyes drifting to the bottom of my neck.

I pulled the jacket up tighter around my throat, "I was just out running and I thought I heard something behind me so I decided to… not take any chances."

"Oh, I see," he replied. "Well, just so you know, there hasn't been a bear sighting or anything in these woods for over a decade. Nothing but dear and tree frogs, I'm afraid. Which is a little weird, but still."

"Yeah," I said, unable to articulate further, because I could probably have guessed on the reason for that oddity. "I guess I just heard a stick fall or something then."

"Probably," he nodded, turning back around to face the field.

In the goal were some balls scattered all over the ground, and a few lay behind and to the sides- but only two or three.

"Good aim," I mused.

"Yeah," he grinned. "The ones that didn't make the goal were the result of an incomplete somersault landing."

I chuckled a little bit. "Oh, so you're an acrobat too, huh?"

"Only on the weekends. You know, when I'm not fighting crime and teaching small children to read."

"Super hero and good Samaritan," I observed. "That should make for an impressive college transcript."

"Oh, I'm not going to college," he said. "As soon as I get my diploma, it's off to the Marines."

"Ready to leave home?"

"Well, ready to leave my dad," Ian said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's a little bit… _overbearing. _Sometimes."

"Yeah, I understand."

For a moment of silent reflection, we both stood and quietly on looked the stillness of the field.

In the distance, I could see Derek's shoulder's dipping behind some dumpster at the back of the school.

Suddenly, I realized I'd totally forgotten what I'd come here for.

I turned to Ian, shoving my cold hands in my pockets, "Well, I guess I better get going. It looks like it's about to storm."

This wasn't a stretch. The clouds were thick and gray, hanging low above our heads.

He agreed, "Yeah, I probably need to leave as well. I'm sure my brother will be wanting his truck back.." he paused for a minute, mouth remaining open as if he had something else he wanted to say, but wasn't sure if he should. Then, he shrugged, "Hey, I was just wondering," he began.

I dipped my head, not trying to rush him as I was anxious to get over to my alpha.

"Yeah?"

"There's a parkour meet tomorrow night at the rival school. It's not exactly a popular event, but you seem like you would enjoy it. I just thought I might let you know, and maybe you'd like to come check it out?"

I nodded, trying to force a smile. "That sounds like it'd be a lot of fun," I said. "I'll definitely try to be there. What time?"

"It starts at seven, but if you want a good seat, I suggest getting there about six-thirty."

"A good seat?"

"You'll just have to come and see what I mean," he told me, raising an eyebrow at me. "See you there."

"See you," I said, waving as he walked back over toward his truck and hurled his lacrosse shaft into the back of the truck and walked over to the balls, tossing each one into the truck bed as well.

I waited until he was good and out of sight to make my way over to the back of the school.

I saw the back door had been jimmied open, probably unlocked with a set of claws, and made my way through them, letting the doors shut carefully behind me.

I made my way quietly down the empty hallway, my footsteps echoing as I wrapped my arms around me.

It was colder in here, with the tile floors and the metal lockers, than it was outside.

I tried following their scent but, as Derek had predicted, the smell of a thousand teenagers was overpoweringly pungent.

I glanced in every room, down every hall, finally finding a small closet looking space with a light on.

It was an office, probably the janitor's, very cramped and bleach-scented.

Derek sat in a dingy looking rolling chair, head resting in his hands.

Peter sat in a chair against a wall, reading through someone's discipline folder.

"Interesting," he mused.

"Arrest record?" I asked.

"No," Peter replied. "I was referring to you," he said, "and that boy."

I disregarded his comment, glancing around the small space.

"Speaking of boys" I said worriedly, "where's Isaac?"

Derek looked up then, his eyes bloodshot and wary.

He had only three words to say to me, "They got him."


End file.
